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LETTERS OF AN 


AMERICAN COUNTESS 


TO HER FRIEND. 


BY THE COUNTESS HERSELF. 

H^l e (S ur II ) ^ ^ )! 


Copyright, 1902, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company. 



New York : 

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
57 Rose Street. 


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INTRODUCTION. 

“Deep, cunning, and treacherous as the plot of 
'Father Goriot,' in which, for a certain consideration, a 
third person arranges a marriage between a poor aris- 
tocrat and an heiress, are the workings of a coterie of 
men and women of standing, who have formed them- 
selves into a marriage ‘Syndicate/ This clique preys 
on the representatives of rank and wealth in every 
country. Its hideous vampire head has reared itself 
in one of the social centres of the Old World, and from 
this point its claws penetrate to the furthermost cor- 
ners of the earth. With the strength of a Scylla it 
fastens upon unsuspecting victims, shedding no blood, 
but draining the very life itself from those it draws 
into its pestilential embrace. 

“No titled bachelor, no unmarried woman of wealth 
may hope to escape this fearful being if once its far- 
seeing eyes behold them. The vampire’s trail is 
marked by the disillusionment of romance, by black- 
mail, ending frequently in suicide.” 

The above extract is taken from the New' York' 
Herald, of Nov. 30, 1902, and is inserted here to go 


iv 


INTRODUCTION. 


to prove that there does exist just such a Syndicate 
as is shown in the pages of this book. While this 
book is strictly a romance, those who read it will 
understand that it is more than ‘'based on fact,” so far 
as the experience of the hypothetical “Countess” 
is concerned. It is written and presented to the pub- 
lic with the sole idea that it may show our young 
girls how they are laid wait for and entrapped like 
helpless flies in the spider^s net, that they may give 
their youth, their beauty, and above all their wealth 
for the doubtful return value of a worn out and starv- 
ing debauche, who will return to his old ways as soon 
as the poor girl's dowry is placed in his hands. The 
Marriage Syndicate had its birth in France, and in spite 
of the expose of the Berlin Syndicate still flourishes 
there. The Author. 


LETTERS OF AN 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


LETTER L 
Dearest Caroline: — 

How many years it has been since we last embraced 
each other! And how much has happened since the 
day I sailed for Europe, and you went West. Years 
have stood still for you, and peace and plenty have been 
your portion, while your heart and fancy are still free. 

As for me, ah, my dear Caroline, I am so happy 
that my heart bubbles over with joy and delight, and 
as you have known nothing of it all I must write 
and tell you, so that you may go and do likewise. You 
are quite rich enough to do as well as I have, perhaps 
even better. 

To go back to the very beginning, you know that 
even as a child I was ambitious to outshine all the 
other girls. My father’s wealth and mother’s social 


6 


LETTERS OF AN 


position gave me a fair start, so that in place of natural 
gifts, I managed to appear to have a certain popularity. 
But as I grew older, under the skilful guidance of 
mother, I made the most of my fine figure and passably 
pretty face. Mother said : 

“Always remember, Syb, that your face is ordinary 
in repose. So smile, to brighten your eyes, bring out 
your dimples, and show your white teeth. Take good 
care of your health and complexion, and above all of 
your teeth.” 

Poor mother died, as you will remember, when I 
was eighteen. I followed her advice and went in for 
health, and took to riding, golfing, rowing, swimming, 
and in short all kinds of outdoor exercise. I took 
great care of my complexion, and I ate and drank like 
an athlete in training. The result was good. Then 
I had a good tailor and dressmaker. I can’t sing — 
don’t care for any kind of musical instrument, so I 
really had to take to the fashionable sports. I led the 
set. I always had more money to spend than any 
other girl, and they were glad to follow my lead. 

I read when quite young in “Vanity Fair” how 
Becky Sharp noticed the children playing in the gutter, 
and resolutely ignoring one girl, more ragged than the 
others. This little girl was called Jemima, and she 
found a penny. As soon as she had made her wealth 
loiown all the other children were at her feet, meta- 
phorically, and vied with each other in protestations 
of undying friendship. So, I like Jemima had a penny 
and had all the other girls in our set at my feet. That 


■AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


7 


way, I counted on being the most popular girl and 
being able to do just what I liked. I set the styles in 
sports and in dress, and father was very proud— quite 
as proud as though I was all everyone thought I was. 
I was heart whole. 

I saw my friends marry, one after the other, and 
noticed that they seemed to get more out of life than 
I did, and I felt, too, that my sporting tastes would 
not keep me as popular as I had been for very long. I 
knew that I was at an age where I ought to think of 
settling, but I wanted to continue my superiority. The 
set I was the head of began to get married one by one, 
and it is not easy for one to adapt oneself to new per- 
sons, and — well, I was tired of single life. I had 
offers enough here, but I felt with a little leaven of my 
old failing that a simple married life with a humdrum 
American would not satisfy me. Father’s wealth being 
so great I felt it ought to obtain a title for me. 

Right here let me tell you that I think there should 
be some special legislation on this subject. As it is 
all the girls must go abroad to marry titled men. We 
want, as I did, for reasons of our own to marry a title. 
Now that could be arranged and all the money that 
we pay for that privilege could be kept in our own 
country, if my plan were to be adopted. For instance : 
legislature could arrange a set of titles, from prince 
down to simple viscount. These could be given 
to some of our young men, according to 
looks and conduct. A sort of reward of 
merit for poor young men. I am not sure how 


8 


LETTERS OF AN 


this could be done, but our legislators are capable of 
doing anything. So when a girl wanted to be a prin- 
cess or something else, and had the money to pay for 
it, she could marry and keep her money in her own 
country. Some might say the title would be of recent 
date, but so would the man be, and is it not much better 
to be the founder of a new and healthy family than 
take the last withered fruit of a decaying family tree ? 

But leaving all that aside, I wanted a title, and I 
knew that father would buy me the moon if I asked 
for it, much less a nobleman. So we went abroad, 
and you went West. And that is why I write you this 
letter to tell you how very, very happy I am. I have 
been a countess now for five years. I could have had 
a marquis* for the same money, but the marquis was 
little, old and bald, dyed his scanty mustache, and 
was bent nearly double, and trembled as he walked. 
He had false teeth and they did not fit, and he did nqt 
keep his nails clean. So, after thinking the matter 
over, I thought I could do better for my money. 

When I met the Count the question of purchase or 
sale did not come into my head. I fell in love with him 
at once. He is such a little darling ! He has black eyes 
and his hair curls whenever he lets it get long enough. 
His teeth are not very fine, but his mustache hides 
them and he is as finicky as a woman about his clothes. I 
am^much taller than he, and far stronger, but his walk 
is something to go far to see. He puts his shoulders 
back and his chest out and walks with such long steps, 
and looks so noble and important that everybody no- 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS, 


0 


tices him. It is as if he said : “Look well at me. I am 
the Count de Poche-vide et Piednu.” 

He began paying serious attentions at once. He 
learned from the great syndicate, which has its head- 
quarters in Paris, and its emissaries in every country, 
the amount of father’s fortune and my dowry and 
expectations. I discovered afterward that this syndicate 
furnished the money for him to live and dress upon 
while seeking a rich American wife. This syndicate 
makes all the arrangements, and often before a girl 
has left her native sod, her prospective fortune has been 
apportioned to some particular scion of impoverished 
nobility. This, as you may understand, is a most ex- 
cellent thing for the girl, as otherwise she might fall 
into unscrupulous hands. The syndicate provides rich 
wives for honorable men only. No drunkard can hope 
for its aid, for they do not know what a drunkard might 
do to put in jeopardy the money they advance. It is 
considered nothing if the noblemen have gambled a lit- 
tle or worshipped at the shrine of beauty, but they 
draw the line at drunkards, so you see our girls are 
better protected than they are at home. 

This is a digression, though a necessary one. My 
husband had to pay the syndicate one-third of the 
dowry. That is a good deal in one way, but, if you 
were to see my beloved Count, and hear him address 
me as “Madame la Comtesse” you would agree with 
me that such a nobleman would be cheap at any price. 

We were brought together at the home of an Ameri- 
can lady who is married into a good old family, but 


10 


LETTERS OF AN 


as there are so many of them to provide for out of her 
dot, it soon came to pass that she was often embar- 
rassed for money, so she finally became a member of 
the syndicate, and she did not have to pay out any 
money, as they were obliged to have some place for the 
American girls to be brought to, for the inspection, and 
introduction. We were presented there and my dearest 
Count fell in love with me according to schedule and — 
well, it is simply wonderful how easy it is for a foreign 
nobleman to fall in love, when he knows the figure of 
the young lady’s . dot. The first moment of the in- 
troduction they seem to take fire, and at once begin to 
throw languishing glances, and pay extravagant com- 
pliments. Then sighs, more glances, and finally letters 
— and more letters — ^telling of tears and still more 
tears shed in lonesome places while thinking of the 
perfections of the loved one. When I unpack my 
trunk I will send you a copy of one of the earliest let- 
ters of my dearest Count, and then you will under- 
stand. Such fire, such pathos, such tenderness and 
despair ! It would melt a heart of stone. 

It is almost funny to see a Frenchman in love, for 
he thinks the proper thing is to go off to some cabaret 
where none of his friends could be expected to miss 
him, and there with the absinthe bottle before him he 
begins to recall her graces and perfections and as the 
absinthe disappears from the bottle, his eyes overflow 
and he sheds those tears of tender spring-like love. 
He fancies that he resembles the mourning doves, and 
there he sits until he goes to sleep or the absinthe gives, 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


11 


out. This is a great drink for arousing the slumbering 
passion of a Frenchman’s volatile heart. 

Well, here I am running off again, so, to return, I 
will say that when letters have passed all has been set- 
tled. Before that some woman has been delegated to 
sound the girl’s heart, but even before that some mutual 
friend has formally requested the honor of the lady’s 
hand, etc., etc. When the father has given his con- 
sent, and ratifies the amount of the fortune he intends 
to bestow upon his daughter, then the pretendu, the 
Count, I mean, comes to dinner en famille, preceded by 
the funniest bouquet ! After that the Count is received 
daily when he comes pour faire sa cour. It is then the 
sweet things belonging in the programme are said. I 
almost grew to think I was a sort of goddess, a per- 
fected perfection. No matter what I did it was charm- 
ing, and I often did things on purpose to shock him, 
but it was all charming. 

No matter what I said it was witty, wise, delightful, 
delicious. No wonder my silly little head was turned 
just a trifle. 

He was so grand, always talking about his honor 
and his name. It made me feel so cheap. It was his 
glory and pride that through, I can’t remember how 
many generations that name had never been tarnished, 
never ! He said so much about bis name that I began 
to feel that I had not paid half what it was worth. 

And he was so polite, and so considerate. When we 
went anywhere, to spare, our feelings about paying, 
he always stood one side and looked the other way 


12 


LETTERS OF AN 


while some one of our party paid. And his temper! 
Perfect ! 

I will just give you an example. We were visiting 
the Baroness de S., and — she is one of the syndicate, 
you know — and were playing croquet. The Count did 
not understand the game, and I was trying to teach 
him and he got right in the wlay when I struck out with 
all my might, and I am no weakling. I hit 
him on the front part of the leg right where 
the crease is laid in the trousers, and I 
hit hard. He jumped up about a yard, and then began 
rubbing the place, while I was ready to cry. He never 
said a word out loud. The tears stood in his eyes, 
and father was so brutal as to laugh and say that it was 
a good idea for the Count to learn what a heavy hand I 
had in time. 

‘^Ah, oui, she *ave a ’eavy ’and, I know zat for she 
have lay it on my ’eart,” said the Count between hard 
breaths. I thought it was very ill bred on my father’s 
part, and how sweet of the dear Count ! 

Our courtship days were very lovely, for the Count 
was always at my side and telling me what a grand 
position I should have as the countess, and one day 
father asked if we were to belong to the syndicate like 
the rest. 

‘"Saire,” said the Count, ‘‘I ’ave ze ’onnaire to tell 
you zat I know not of where you spik.” 

As he said this he swelled up his chest and began 
to breathe hard and I felt that there was trouble in the 
air, so I started to run a few steps and fell down and 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


13 


sat there moaning as though I had sprained an ankle. 
This created a diversion and it passed off in consoling 
me. 

I was glad that father was going home as soon as 
the wedding had taken place, for I knew that there 
would be some sort of an eruption, for he had all the 
brusquerie of the untitled American, and my dear 
Count was so extremely sensitive about his honor. One 
would have thought, had it been anyone but my dearest 
Count, that his honor must be very fragile, so fearful 
he was of having it touched. One of his enemies, for 
all great men have enemies, said that he, the Count, re- 
minded him of Diogenes with his candle, only the 
Count was looking, not for an honest man, but for some 
injury to his honor. Honor is a great thing to have, 
particularly when one has nothing else. 

At this very moment Therese came to me with a box 
as she is unpacking my trunks, and in it are all the 
letters which my dearest husband wrote to me during 
those delightful days when he was, as they say over 
there, making his courtship. This one is the very 
first, and it is not half so fervid as some of the others, 
but I think this will be about all that I would dare 
inflict upon you at once, and for the first. It begins: 

'T love you. I adore you! There are no words 
stronger than those. I never have loved until now. 
I never adored until I saw you. I prostrate myself 
at your feet. You are for me more than all the rest 
of creation, more than Heaven. (Just note, dear 
Caroline, how original this is) : Where you are not is 


14 


LETTERS OF AN 


' a desert; all is dark; all is dead — ^you alone people 
my world. 

**The spheres follow your movements, and the 
celestial harmonies are regulated by your will, your 
smile makes the day, my sadness the night. Oh my 
cherished queen! My beautiful dream, you are the 
splendor of my night. It is true that I have known 
you only a short time, but I loved you before I saw you, 
and I languished then with longing for you. I called 
you, I wept for you, but did not despair of meeting 
you some day in my long road and I was sure that 
I could never love any other woman but my idol. 

“How many times you have appeared to me at the 
window of that mysterious cloud castle, leaning on a 
balcony, throwing to the wind the petals of the flowers. 
Sometimes the petulant amazon on a beautiful Arab 
horse, white as snow, traversing at a gallop the sombre 
paths of the forest. So soon as I saw you something 
seemed to open a new life within me ; a veil fell, a door 
opened, and I felt my soul inundated with waves of 
light. I saw that my life was before me, that my 
chimeras were dissipated, my errors understood. 

“My torment was not that which I had feared — ^to 
be forever the prey of an idea that could never be con- 
summated. I know that you exist — that my presenti- 
ments did not lie. But I tremble and weep in fear to 
lift the veil for fear that I die. Ah, Mademoiselle 
Sybil, if you knew how many tears I have shed in 
lonely places, murmuring your name to the zephyrs. 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


15 


you would surely pity the poor heart that beats but for 
yon.” 

(Now, Caroline, is not that worth all the money it 
cost ? But, I will go on and copy out a few more para- 
graphs, though really 1 ought to give the whole letter. 
Minnie Graves, whom you must remember, said, when 
I let her read some of the dear Count’s letters, that she 
had read them before, but they were then addressed 
to another, but you know she was always envious and 
did not hesitate to tell fibs. So I know better. To 
continue.) 

‘Tf you knew that under the appearance of being 
distraite, with what breathless attention I watch you, 
and with what eagerness I follow you with eyes and 
soul, even in your slightest movement! Nothing es- 
capes me. I would know you under the most im- 
penetrable disguise, if I saw even one of your 
dimpled fingers. I am enraged with all who dare 
to cast their admiring eyes upon you, and feel that 
they are trying to rob me of my treasure which is 
mine because of my love, and tears. Alas! without 
you my life would be the most barren and 
desolate of deserts. You are the one desire of 
my life. Without you what is honor, name, 
high position and the adulation of the world ? 
Nothing. Without you it would be but a vain 
appearance, and if you blow coldly upon the 
flame that you have lighted in my heart, there will 
rest but ashes. Alas ! I know not how to tell to you 
the passion burning in my heart, but if you could see 


16 


LETTERS OF AN. 


me as I sit alone in the deep shades of the forest 
beside some purling stream, and note the scalding tears 
I shed, perhaps you would pity me, and accord a 
thought to your unhappy ” 

Caroline, is not that beautiful? Would you, could 
you have been cruel enough to refuse to accept such 
an ardent outpouring even though envious friends said 
that the whole affair was cut and dried from the be- 
ginning, and that probably a dozen others had received 
a copy of the same letter, as he had been on the market 
for some time. Of course I know better. It is true 
that now whenever it is necessary for my dear Count 
to write he does it in a business way quite different. 
But then, I think that is the way with all men. 

Well, dear, things went on in the usual way, which 
is set and fixed in France, and at last the wedding day 
came. My darling Count said so much about the 
honor of his name, ^‘the name my father left me,” and 
all that that I felt almost unworthy of such a great 
dignity. Minnie said that his name and a good head 
of hair was all that his father had ever given him, and 
so he did wfell to honor the name since that was salable 
and the hair was not. But she was really jealous, for 
her fortune was nothing in comparison with mine. 

My dear Count is coming in from his walk and I 
must close for this time, but I will write again this 
afternoon, as I am very anxious that you should know 
all about my wedding. So good bye for three hours. 

Sybil. 


AMERICAN COUNTESS,. 


17 


LETTER II. 

Dear Caroline: — 

I expected to go on with my long delayed cor- 
respondence, but when my husband, the Count, came 
in he was greatly disturbed, and it took all my after- 
noon to restore his peace of mind. It seems that he 
had trouble with the executors of my late father’s 
estate. He is always disagreeing with them. They 
cannot be expected to understand his exalted ideas 
of French honor. Really when I speak of that I feel 
that I ought to put it in capital letters, so much does 
his HONOR mean to my adored husband, the Count. 

But, to resume the story of my wedding. I know 
that will please you. Weddings and new babies al- 
ways have an interest for all women. 

When we married half Paris was at the wedding. 
There are two weddings to each there, yet I doubt both 
being as effective as our one, when it comes to the 
regard for the promises made. But, let that pass. 
We were married ‘^civilly” and “religiously.” At the 
civil marriage is when the dowry is given to the 
bridegroom, and out of that he generally buys the wed- 


18 


LETTERS OP APf 


ding present for the bride. The "‘family jewels’’ which 
had come from I do not know how many generations, 
were included in the expenses of the wedding, and 
father was mean enough to make a fuss when he had 
to pay the bill. 

“If you needed more jewels than you had, Syb, I’d 
have bought them for you, and got them cheaper, for 
I find that your noble Count had the price made forty 
per cent, more so that he could pocket the difference.” 
He was so angry that I really could not say a word. 

I had a cream white satin gown with a train more 
than three yards long, and flounced from top to bot- 
tom with chiffon ruffles over which were point lace 
ones. The corsage was made with a point in front 
and had lace zigzagged down, and in all the corners 
were tiny bouquets of orange blossoms, and I wore a 
tulle veil held with a diamond coronet, and a few buds 
and leaves. I carried an ivory and silver prayer 
book. I know I never looked so well, and my only 
regret was that I was so much taller than my husband. 
I would gladly have given him some of my height and 
strength as he is so small and frail. It made some of 
the envious ones say mean things about my getting 
so little for my money. As it was, I crouched as much 
as I could while we were wialking together so people 
would not notice the difference. But he never seemed 
to imagine for one moment that he was not immeasur- 
ably superior in every way. 

After the ceremony at which all the old nobility — 
who belong in the syndicate — assisted — and among 


AMERICAN COVNTESS. 


19 


those are the best sounding titles in that country, and 
the report sounded well in the papers — we went back ' 
with father to the hotel before starting on our wedding 
trip. The breakfast was given by the Baroness de S. 
— as I was motherless, and she undertook the chaperon- 
age — for a consideration. I never told father of this, 
for I always had plenty of money of my own, and she 
told me very frankly that she would gladly do me 
this service but she could not unless I could bear the 
expense. So I gave her three thousand francs. I 
think provisions and wines must cost very much there 
judging from what we had to eat and drink, and only 
twenty were invited to the breakfast. But they were 
people whose names are seen in the history of France. 
It seems queer that so many of those whose names 
are in history seem to think that is enough and that 
Fate can do no more for them, and considering some 
things it is almost explainable. They can, at no matter 
what age and condition make a brilliant marriage for 
money, or they can adopt into the family an outsider 
and bestow one or another of their titles, for they 
generally have two or three lying about, and this also 
brings a fortune. So it is well to be a nobleman of 
la belle France, after all. 

As I said, we returned with father, and I dressed 
for our wedding trip. We were to go to Engadine. 

I had wanted to go to Nice, and Rome, and all those 
places, but my dearest Count said that he could not 
bear to have all the v/orld look upon his lovely bride, 
and that we should be so much happier alone, and, 


20 


LETTERS OF 


of course, I saw that he was quite right, and wte ar- 
ranged for the Engadine. 

When we were ready, father, who had gone out as 
soon as we came in, returned, and the Count asked 
father in the most delicate manner for money for our 
expenses on our wedding trip. Father turned red 
and said: 

“You received my daughter’s dowry yesterday.” 

“Yes,” replied the Count with a noble air, “but it ees 
not my intention to waste hair fortune. Zat ees 
sacred.” 

Father looked disgusted and angry, but said shortly : 

“How much do you want?” 

“My name and position would require 25,000 francs. 
You must forget not that your daughtaire is now the 
Countess de Poche-vide et Piednu.” 

“Very well, I will give my daughter five thousand 
dollars.” 

“Pairdon, I hafe ze honnaire to say 25,000 francs,’' 
replied the Count with a bow full of distinction. I 
was proud of him, he looked so grand and noble, and 
I must admit that father looked mean, haggling like 
that. 

“Yes, I know,” father answered. “You think in 
francs and I in dollars. Sybil, here is the money. I 
am afraid you have paid dear for your whistle.” 

“Saire,” my noble husband replied, drawing himself 
up and swelling out his chest, “I the English spik 
as she is writing, and I understand the vulgaire thing 
you have say. T’ankful and glad should you be zat I 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


21 


'haf gaven my most honorable name to the daughtaire 
of so avare and ignoble a personage.” 

^'You get out of here, you Johnny Crapeaud! And 
don’t you tell me anything about your family ! I don’t 
care a rap. My daughter wanted a title, and as she 
had to buy the man to get it we are quits. I go home 
to-morrow. But this I say: Never will you get 
another cent from me. You have got your price 
and my daughter has got what she wanted. I go 
home to-morrow and you can go to the Devil. Syb, 
when he’s spent all your money and begins to ill treat 
you, you know my address. Kiss me good bye.” 

For one moment I could not help feeling that there 
was something to be said on my father’s side, but then 
I thought that now I was married and so must in duty 
think as my husband did, but I felt terribly as I 
kissed my father good bye. The Count looked at me 
with cold disapprobation and afterward told me that 
it is abominable for a father to kiss his daughter on 
her lips. No French father v/ould so sully the purity 
of bis child’s mind as to do so. When I asked where 
a French father did kiss his daughter he said it 
w'as always on the forehead. It was indelicate — even 
immoral for a father to kiss his daughter on the lips 
or for her to allow it. I felt really angry, io: I knew 
the goodness of my father in spite of his rough ways 
in business matters, but I remembered in time that 
every country has its own code of morals, and what 
French fathers might do if they were permitted by 


LETTERS OF AN 


their social laws to kiss their daughters on the lips — 
well, they were the best judges. So I let it pass. 

Then we went out and when we were in the coupe, 
I began to cry. The Count was very patient and con- 
siderate, and let me alone for a time, and then he 
said : 

‘Ts it zen zat you loaf your fazer more zan me? 
Forget never zat he is of ozer rank as we ozers. Gife 
me ze monnaie zat I may count if it be all right.'’ 

“Certainly it is," I said, for I could not bear that he 
should think so meanly of my father. He took it, 
saying : 

“We shall see. Your fazer, he loaf his dollaires 
very much." 

I gave him the money and he counted it three times 
and then put it in his pocket. He never said a word 
in blame of me for crying, nor for father's rudeness. 

I felt sorry that father was going away, but on the 
other hand I was glad, for I could see that he and 
the Count were likely to clash at any moment. The 
Count with his high minded ideas about money and 
expenses, and the impossibility of a nobleman of 
France doing anything to earn it; and father's belief 
that no one should be allowed to live in idleness. 
Why, father had even offered the Count a position as 
agent for his chemicals ! They never could have 
agreed. So that was the best way. 

We went to the Engadine and the Count took two 
rooms in a small cottage, a very plain one, at which I 
was much surprised, but he explained it so sweetly 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


23 


that I was ashamed of my thoughts. He wanted to 
have me all to himself, and so we were very happy. 
He would not let me take the slightest trouble about 
anything, and it amused me to see how very saving he 
was with our money. He would actually quarrel with 
the landlord about the candles and other things. He 
showed me more about economy than I ever knew. 
He made more fuss over the question of a franc than 
I would over a thousand dollars. When I said so 
he replied that noblesse oblige. I could not 
always follow his arguments, as he was naturally so 
much more clever than I am, but it would have savored 
of parsimoniousness in any other than my dearest 
Count. 

I had quite a little money of my own, and this he 
seemed to think was in danger in my hands, and so 
make me less independent, and to bring us closer 
together and make our interests more identical, he 
just teased me until he had got the last franc away 
from me. We would go out together, and he would 
order dinner and find that his purse was at the cottage, 
and that I must lend him some money to pay with or 
we should certainly be arrested as swindlers, and make 
so many funny jokes that before I realized it I had 
not another centime. It felt awfully queer at first 
and I scarcely knew how to manage. He bought 
everything we needed and ordered all our meals him- 
self, and if I did not like the things he ordered, he 
would laugh and say: 


24 


LETTERS OF AM 


**Noiis avons paye^ et il faut mange/^ (We have 
paid and must eat.) 

I was really glad to get back to Paris, for the season 
was now about to commence, and I wanted to take 
a house, hotel they call it, and have some benefit of 
my title, but he said that as yet my manners were too 
unformed to pass muster with the old nobility. He 
took great pains to instruct me. Once when we were 
not even engaged We were in company with others, 
for in France no young girl can go out alone with her 
fiance. I do not know exactly which one they are 
afraid to trust, but it is so. Well, we were at the 
big cafe in the Bois de Boulougne and eating ices. I 
remember that I leaned forward and with my elbows 
on the table rested my chin in my hands. It is a way 
I have when thinking deeply, and at this time I was 
weighing the merits of the Count and the Marquis. 
The ices had not come yet. I was lost in thought 
when the Count, who was even then desperately in love 
with me, cried out: 

‘^Mon Dieu! Quel delicieux abandon! Quel grace f* 
(My Heaven, what delicious abandon! What grace!) 

This was brought to mind while he was trying to 
instruct me in the graces of the grand and aristocratic 
society where I am now to enter. We were at the 
very same place and I got thinking of that other day, 
and unconsciously took the same position. I was re- 
called to the earth by hearing him say : 

“My God, what manners !” 

I felt terribly mortified and after that he nor any- 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


25 


one ever saw me make such a mistake again. I tell 
you this so that you may see, my dearest Caroline, 
how much trouble my dear husband took for m.e, and 
how very considerate he is. One thing I have noticed 
since then and that is that when you are nobly born 
you can do things and say things which w'ould be 
considered awfully bad form in anyone else. For 
instance, the Count himself sets all our new fangled 
table etiquette at defiance, and is a law to himself. At 
table he feels of all the bread to be sure that it is 
fresh, and that the people are not trying to pass off 
old bread when he pays for fresh, and he does the same 
no matter at whose home we dine; and he always, if 
asked to take bread, grasps three or four pieces. He 
likes bread. Then he takes his soup out of the point 
of his spoon, and when some English people looked 
sharply at him for so doing, he told me that if his 
mouth were as big as those of the English he should 
be obliged to do as they did and eat out of the side 
of the spoon. As to the silly habit they had of eating 
with a fork, it might be very well for them, but for a 
scion of one of the oldest houses in France not at 
all. He could set a mode, and did not follow every 
new idea that was put forward by men in trade who 
made the forks just to sell. As to him, his ancestors 
had eaten with a knife for twenty-five generations, and 
their last descendant would not disgrace them by fol- 
lowing foolish new fads. After this I found it quite 
difficult to know what to do. I could not adapt myself 
easily to eat with my knife or take soup out of the end 


26 


LETTERS OF AN 


of the spoon, but I tried hard. However, the Count 
was gracious enough not to insist. He always sat as 
far from the table as he could and still reach his food, 
and when in some of the hotels, and one private house 
the servants had to beg him to put his chair nearer the 
table he was angry, saying that the rabble of to-day 
could not be expected to understand that in his ances- 
tral halls there was room for a regiment, and that the 
old Counts de Poche-vide et Piednu always had to be 
ready to jump from their feasts and banquets to go 
and fight some of the robber English. 

I almost hated to go to dinner, for the Count, as 
soon as he had had three or four glasses of wine began 
to talk of his great and noble family, and by the time 
he had finished dinner he was on the verge of tears, 
remembering its ancient glories. And it was then 
that he grew the most pathetic over the loss of his 
father. 

Of course I could not say anything, for one’s father 
is his father, but I had not been a countess long be- 
fore I had heard many things about the old stock.' 
And such stories ! Why, Caroline, I could not tell you 
in a year all that I have heard. Of course, my hus- 
band is not at all like the others. He is a true noble- 
man. But I was told that his father squandered all 
the rest had left on fast women, horses and cards. 
He had been caught cheating at cards and finally 
driven from decent society, and when this Count came 
into the title, there was scarce money enough left to 
give him an education. So after he had lived along 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


27 


— no one knows how, — the syndicate had taken him up, 
as his name is an old one, and yet, somehow, after 
I had heard all this, I felt that it might be that a new 
name that had been brought to public notice by a 
man’s own achievements was worth more than the 
old one. But then, I am an American, after all, and 
must have imbibed some of my father’s sentiments. 

Once I asked the Count to take me to see the ancient 
castle of his ancestors, and really he made me feel 
the difference between the old stock and the nouveau 
riche, so that I never asked him again. 

“Madame,” he said, “is it not enough that I must 
suffer a thousand humiliations every day because of 
your lack of respect for the traditions of my noble 
family that you should wish to gloat over its miseries ? 
Its decay ? Alas ! Scarcely two stones remain to- 
gether. Remind me not of its ancient glories. The 
name of the illustrious de Poche-vide et Piednu will 
perish from off the face of the earth !” 

“But, Bonito,” this is one of his names and it is 
the one I use because he is so little and so pretty, 
“Bonito, cannot we rebuild the old chateau?” 

“Madame, your father gave you as dot a so little 
fortune zat I can scarcely see how we are to live and 
keep our proper rank, and how zen can we rebuild ?” 

For a second I felt a little nettled, for my dowry was 
five million dollars, and I said so. At this the poor 
Count took his hat and went out without a word. He 
was so wounded. It was a week before I could win 
him to forgive me. I was so sorry that I had hurt his 


38 


LETTERS OF AN 


feelings, for, of course, a nobleman’s feelings must be 
far more sensitive than ordinary people, and they have 
so much more reason to he sensitive that we should 
forgive them and also try to avoid their weak points. 

After that I did not ask any more, but, as I said, I 
heard about the family at dinner every day. We had 
taken an apartment in a fashionable locality, and my 
dear and loving husband fitted it up after his own 
taste, and so spared me the weariness of it. And this 
was always one of my dear Count’s best and kindest 
of traits, for he never lets me be troubled with money 
at all. Whatever I want he buys for me, or if I need 
clothes he makes me look through all my wardrobe 
and see if I really do need what I say I do. He is so 
saving, and he does not intend to become poor, and 
spend my fortune in foolish expenses. I have been 
accustomed to have so much money at my command 
that even yet I cannot quite get used to going to some- 
one for every single penny that I spend. Sometimes 
I want to give to someone in need, but my dear hus- 
band sets his foot down firmly against such things, 
and says that if they had not been extravagant they 
would not now be in need. Of course I know he is 
right, and that it is a great thing when a French 
nobleman tries to be saving and to take care of the for- 
tune his American wife has brought, and it is so very 
rare also, but onoe or twice I would have written to 
father to send me a little money for my own use, but 
so careful is my beloved husband of his honor that 
he read all my letters before I could send them. He 


AMERICAN COUNTESS, 


29 


does that yet. It is not the fashion to do so, in this 
country, but he is so very careful for fear that I may 
inadvertently say something to the dimming of the 
lustre of the de Poche-vide et Piednu family, that he 
considers it a duty. 

My dearest Caroline, I find that one cannot put the 
existence of five years into one letter, and so as the 
books say, “To be continued in our next.” I will con- 
tinue this narrative as fast as I can and hope you will 
enjoy it. Until then, dear Caroline, your friend, 

Syb. 


m 


LETTERS OF AN 


LETTER III. 

My Dearest Caroline : — 

As I think over what I have written to you so far, 
I find I have left out quite a number of things which 
should have been mentioned in order that you could 
understand everything in its proper sequence. 

For instance, I said that we took an apartment. We 
did, and it was a large and commodious one, although 
there were but eight rooms. But no matter how fine 
a place of this kind is it cannot compare with my 
home at home. I always thought ^'home” whenever I 
thought of New York. We had in our apartment a 
reception room, a parlor, a dining room, and four 
bedrooms, and a funny little kitchen, where the 
range was a curious affair. The butler's pantry had 
to serve as a sitting room for the servants. The Count 
took one bedroom, and the one next to it for his dress- 
ing room. I had the other. The small one was for the 
femme de chambre and the rest of the servants slept 
upstairs somewhere. I say the rest, but there were but 
two — the Count’s valet, who also served as butler, and 
the cook. I had no personal maid. The femme de 
chambre was to wait upon me, when I needed her. 
The parlor, or salon, as they call it, was quite a large 


AMERICAN COUMTMSS. 


31 


room, and with this and the back parlor, or library, 
we managed very well. But there was not room 
enough in my room to swing my clubs, and the Count 
did not approve of dumb bells, so I had to content 
myself with my pulling machine for exercise. As 
for my plunge bath and rub-down it was out of the 
question. There is no possible arrangement for such 
a comfort in France. 

And I almost perished with cold. All the heating 
arrangement was one open fireplace where a fite 
could be made, but it was never of coal, and the rest 
of the rooms were warmed by that wretched thing 
called a calorifere. It is a miserable apology for a 
stove on wheels and is rolled from room to room. I 
positively hated it. I came to understand the story 
about the French lady who saves all the nut shells to 
burn when there is company. 

The bedroom windows were never opened, and 
when the air grew too bad a spray of cologne water 
was thrown to liven it up. I cannot tell you what I 
suffered in being deprived of my fresh air and my 
daily cold plunge, but do not for one moment imagine 
it to be the fault of my beloved husband. You see to 
belong to the old school of nobility means absolute 
conservatism, and such things as I had been accus- 
tomed to were entirely too radical. 

I loved to ride on horseback, but somehow the 
Count did not approve of women riding, so I had to 
give that up. I regretted that all the more as, my 
figure being an exceptionally fine one, I look my best 


32 


LETTERS OF AM 


in a habit. My dearest Bonito is a good rider, too, 
and looks far better on horseback, as his legs do not 
appear so short, and the bow in them is not so notice- 
able. But I did not ride. To preserve my health 
under such a radical change in my habits of life, I 
used to get up softly in the early morning and slip 
out quietly, not to disturb the Count, and go for a 
long walk. After breakfast, which we took at twelve, 
I rode in the Bois, or some other fashionable place, 
but always alone, and returned in time to dress for 
dinner. After that we went to the theater ; sometimes, 
but not often, my dearest Count left me to go home 
alone afterward, while he went to his club. He rarely 
returned until nearly daylight. It seems as if Paris 
only lives at night, and prefers the day for sleep and 
recuperation. 

We visited but rarely and had but few guests. 
They were people whom I detested, for their insuffer- 
able airs, under the outward semblance of politeness 
and suavity. But I could see that the Count did not 
offer any hospitality to anyone belonging to the syndi- 
cate. Minnie told me one day that one member had 
said that now the Count had made his strike and won 
his heiress, and paid his percentage of her dowry, he 
considered himelf quit and intended to stay so. It 
did not become him to open his house to further the 
matrimonial projects of any other impecunious noble- 
man. I knew Minnie was not telling the truth, but 
as she was almost the only American that I knew, I 
was glad of her company. 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


33 


My indulgent husband was so kind as to wish to 
instruct me in all the customs of the high nobility be- 
fore w'e launched out to any extent. If we went 
about and accepted invitations we would be obliged to 
return the hospitality, and he was so thoughtful and 
sensitive that he could not bear the idea that I might 
make some terrible mistake and become a laughing 
stock. I told him that I kept house for my father ever 
since my mother died, and that we had always enter- 
tained very lavishly. He said that lavish expenditure 
was not the first consideration among the class where, 
by his exalted position I now belonged. I replied 
very impertinently, I must admit, and said that, judg- 
ing by what I had seen, I knew he was right. Then he 
said that the nobles of Old France did not make gods 
of their stomachs. They did not think it necessary to 
gorge themselves all the time. I was mean enough 
to answer that in view of the fact that the old nobility 
did not have the means, as a general rule to do other- 
wise, it did not seem to be so much to their credit to 
be so abstemious. 

I must confess that in all my life I never lived so 
very plainly. He was so very thoughtful and saving 
for fear that my father might think he was too' ex- 
travagant. Why, he quarrelled every morning with 
the cook and urged her to be more saving and accused 
her of wasting the grease. She took it all as though 
that were a part of the routine, and I wondered what 
our Bridget would have said had my father dared to 
question her methods. The cook did all the market- 


34 


LETTERS OF AN 


ing under my dear husband’s orders. ‘^All I had to do 
do was to make myself charming,” he said sweetly. 

I w^rote any number of letters to all my old ac- 
quaintances to let them see my crest, with goodness 
knows how many quarterings on it, and I used to look 
at my linen often to see the crown and all, and when 
I rode out I took good care to see that the panel and 
blazon were in the best possible condition. One con- 
solation I had and that was that it was a very showy 
one, and whoever saw either side of the carriage 
would know that it held a Countess. I had a seal, 
and used it to seal my letters with, and all the people 
I knew, and my servants, bowed when they said: 
''Madame la Comtesse.” I assure you, my dear Caro- 
line, the novelty never wears off, and I am just as 
proud to-day as I was in the beginning. 

The dressing room belonging to my dear husband 
was a sight to see. There was a new dressing table, 
and in fact everything we had was new. All the dra- 
pery was of the finest quality of real lace, and spread 
out on the table were all sorts of toilet necessaries, 
and all in pure gold, some of them having jewelled 
tops. Every one was a work of art of the most 
modem school. There were more kinds of perfumes 
and pomades than I ever knew the use of. My dear- 
est Count favors the attar of roses for his perfume, 
and so strongly is he scented with it since we are mar- 
ried that his friends call him coeur de rose. It would 
be a daring pen to try to write of all the dainty linen, 
undergarments, ties and handkerchiefs in his dressing 


AMERICAN COUNTESS, 


35 


room. Shoes stand along the wall, dozens of pairs, 
and the wardrobes were crammed with garments of 
every description. Among them was a long pardes- 
sus of thick cloth lined with Russian Crown sable. 
I cannot say how much this cost, but I know it must be 
a large sum. I remember that once in New York I 
wanted to buy a sable set, and the furrier told me to 
wait until I began to grow old, for if I wore such 
costly things while I was still young, old age would 
find no recompense to give me in return for my 
youth. So I took seal and waited for my sables. I 
am waiting for them yet. 

I really was very lonely during the first year of 
my married life. After we came back from our wed- 
ding trip and settled down in our apartment, I had 
scarcely anyone to speak to, for my dearest Count was 
so much occupied with his visits and his club, and be- 
sides, he always was a royalist, and of course there 
was an undercurrent of plotting going on and he was 
obliged to be much with his party. So I saw little of 
him except at breakfast and dinner. 

I read a great deal in those days, as somehow the 
Count did not wish me to mingle with such Americans 
as were in Paris. I asked him to tell me why, for I 
did really want to show off my greatness and title, 
but he made me see that I was now a French woman, 
and if I wanted to be a real countess in fact as well 
as in name, I must break off with all those ill-bred 
Americans. He was and is so anxious that I shall 
be one of those grand and dignified noble women like 


36 


LETTERS OF AN 


his female ancestors, that I made, as I still do, all 
manner of sacrifices of my own will to become all 
that my beloved husband wishes. 

The last day that Minnie was there I asked her to 
stay and have breakfast with us, and the Count, poor 
man, could find no means of sending her away. At 
table she said that she hated French cooking and would 
be glad to get back to New York where she could find 
a decent roast or broiled steak, and she went on talking 
of the things we all eat and like at home. She set me 
on edge with the scanty breakfast which was served 
to us every day. That day there was a thin consomme 
and a stringy pot roast with garlic, and some spinach, 
and as side dish there was an omelet, the whole ending 
with a dish containing two pears for three of us. I 
felt ashamed of the scanty fare and I could scarcely 
keep the tears back, and the Count saw it, and not 
liking to say anything to me before Minnie, he had the 
cook called in and began to scold her about the 
soup, which he declared had not one single “eye of 
grease in it.” He said that it was useless for her to 
deny it, he was sure she sold the fat for her own profit. 
From that I understood that it is one of the cook’s 
perquisites to sell the refuse grease, and I am sure 
that she never would have made a fortune on the sale 
of everything that came into our home. 

Hitherto the cook had borne all the things she heard 
from him with becoming humility, but now she fired 
up and called him a stingy old woman, a Mary-Jane, 
and said that though she had lived in many really 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


37 


noble families she had never seen such a skinflint. 
She advised me to thrash him a couple of times as she 
had heard the American women do when their hus- 
bands misbehave. She then turned to Minnie and 
advised her to throw herself off the Eiffel Tower, but 
never marry a French count. After this she said it 
was no wonder the Count was so stingy for he was 
only half a man, and consequently could not be ex- 
pected to look at things in the proper light. The 
Count told her that he would not give her a recom- 
mendation, and she said that to have left him would 
be all she would require. How it all would have 
ended I do not know, but at that moment there was a 
smoke and smell of burning sugar and the force of 
habit caused her to rush into the kitchen and leave us. 
Minnie laughed so hard that I feared she would in- 
jure herself, but after a while she became quiet and 
said: 

“I fear. Count, you will think me one of the unre- 
generate.” 

'T think nothing, mademoiselle,” replied my hus- 
band with stiff dignity. He hated her, for she always 
had a way of rubbing the fur the wrong way, and he 
actually seemed to suffer from her presence and blunt 
speech, yet he acted as if he did not dare to leave us 
alone for one minute, for fear that she might say 
something that he, with his high minded notions would 
find dangerous. So now he grew positively frigid, 
and he does look so noble when he is dignified. He 
would be really sublime if he stood even a little over 


38 


LETTERS OF AN 


five feet. But he doesn't. He never changes color, 
for, in common with all the true nobility, he uses just 
a little rouge, and a tiny touch of powder, and a 
trifle of cherry red on his lips. That would make 
our American men look just awful, but it seems to be 
all right for the French. As Minnie had spoken he 
rose from his chair and said in his most chilling 
tones : 

'T 'ave ze honnaire to say bon jour." He took his 
hat and went out. This was the first time he had ever 
left the place when there was anyone there to see me 
without asking to be excused, as if he felt that he 
was too great a personage to be spared without a 
wrench. I knew as well as if he had said it that 
Minnie was never to be admitted again, but I felt that 
she had brought it on herself. I did not care much. 

'"Well, Syb," she said after the Count had come 
as near slamming the door as his sense of what was 
due to his high honor would permit, 'T don’t envy 
you." 

^'We will talk of New York," I said, a little stiffly, 
for I felt that she did not understand the sensitive 
nature of my beloved Count; so we talked of home, 
until I had a fit of homesickness. I never saw Minnie 
again, and I have some reason to suspect that in- 
structions were given that I should never be at home 
again when she came. 

The season was at its height when my husband told 
me that we should really be obliged to go to aireception 
at the home of the Duchess d’Uno, and that he hoped 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS, 


39 


I had profited enough by his teaching to avoid making 
any grave mistakes in the convenances. 

It was on my tongue to tell him that I had not been 
brought up in a wilderness, but in the midst of the 
best society in America, but I remembered in time to 
become humble again. It became me to be so, as I 
was now to be introduced into the exclusive set of 
Royalists, and they, as is well known, never admit any- 
one but the very flower of the oldest families to their 
intimacy — except in cases like mine where the dot had 
been so large, and there were my expectations too, 
and it costs a lot of money to conspire. 

I must confess that I was delighted with the pros- 
pect of being received into this charmed circle, but I 
was worried a little too, as I was naturally desirous of 
making a good first appearance. I had literally nothing 
fit to wear, and I did so dislike to ask the Count for 
money. I hated still more for him to stand over me 
and choose and pay for my purchases, haggling about 
the amount like an old fishwife. Of course, I know 
that he did and does this for my good, and all that, 
but I had had money so plentifully in the old days to 
spend as I liked that this was really galling. But I 
had no choice. To ask I had to make a thousand 
trials. Finally I told him that I feared that I should 
need a new toilette for this occasion. 

‘T expected that,’' he replied. ‘^And it is but 
natural, for you belong to that rank, body and soul, 
that thinks clothes and jewels are everything. You 
will doubtless be surprised to see what a difference 


40 


LETTERS OF AN 


there is in real nobility, born so for thousands of 
years, and the nobility of dollars. The first is noble 
in anything — and the second in nothing. I must tell 
you, Madame la Comtesse, that the paltry sum your 
father gave you will not last long at this rate.’’ 

I was so surprised I could not help it, but spoke out 
suddenly and said: 

''Twenty-five millions of francs ought to produce 
an income sufficient to keep up a much larger estab- 
lishment than this. I have not had five hundred francs 
of things since we were married. The income on ” 

"Ah, zere speak ze tradesman’s blood! Income! 
Allow me to tell you zat we ’ave no income! Alas! 
zat I so low should sink! From where should an 
income arrive?” 

Here my poor dear Count tried to pull his hair in 
his righteous indignation, and looked so angry that 
I felt my heart sink as I stammered : 

"Why, I suppose you have placed the money to ad- 
vantage where it woulo earn an interest ” 

"Madame, I am not a money-lender. What is left 
of the miserable sum is in my safe. I had debts to 
pay, seven millions. Would you ’ave me refuse to 
pay? Zen I take a bail on zis expensive apartement — I 
buy ze furniture, ze tableau — ze brick bats — I pay all 
ze expense of everything. I furnish madame wiz 
carriage and horses — I must live as my rank demand, 
and my club, and my party, ze Royalist party to which 
no one but the best family can belong, and zat is ex- 
pense, and all zose, and voila! Madame she believe 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


41 


she ’ave always ze five million dollaire. I can tell 
you, madame, however econome I am zis little monnaie 
will not never last not anozzer year. And now you 
wish to make grand toilettes ! Very good ! Come and 
I will purchase you a grand toilette. You will re- 
quire it to make known your presence to the per- 
sonages where you shall have the most distinguish 
honnaire to be presented. Make you ready.” 

I felt crushed and frightened as well as humiliated 
by the thought that I had supposed for a moment that 
my noble husband could condescend to business, even 
to invest the money so that it might provide an income. 
One must really live with a French nobleman as his 
wife to know just how noble he is. 

While I was putting my bonnet on my dear husband 
came back from the safe, where I had so often seen 
him without imagining that all our fortune was there, 
and melting day by day. He was still in an exalted 
state of mind. He said as he flourished the handful 
of bank notes : 

‘‘Ah, noble blood ! For itself it speaks ! The daugh- 
ter of a maker of chemicals sink zat I must like him 
be and seek to make ze dollaire to create out of ze so 
bad odored chemicals ! I, ze last Count de Poche-vide 
et Piednu. Ah, madame, one must be of a vile mix- 
ture of low blood to sink such sings. It from Amer- 
ique only is zat we such sings must expect.” 

I could scarcely keep from crying. I felt dread- 
fully to find that my American training would come 
to the surface so, and I begged him to pardon me — 


42 


LETTERS OF AN 


that I would never offend again — ^and did everything 
I could think of to calm his just indignation and 
wounded feelings. For a long time I could make no 
impression, but finally the innate nobility of his grand 
heart rose superior to the affront put upon him, and 
he forgave me and we went to the dressmaker’s. 

My dear Caroline, on looking to see how many 
pages I have written I find this letter so long that I 
will add spice to its contents by telling you that I 
shall describe the grand reception in the next one, 
and close this long epistle right now for fear that I 
shall forget. I am tempted to keep on. 

So good bye till next time. Sybil. 


/ 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


43 


\ 


LETTER IV. 

My Dear Old Caroline: — 

That means my dear old friend. I am going to take 
pity on your natural and carefully developed curios- 
ity and tell you the rest of the story about the grand 
reception, and how much I have to be thankful for. 
After my dearest love had forgiven me we started 
to the dressmaker’s, as I said. Here his noble heart 
showed itself triumphant, and he told me to choose 
for myself, and went into the grand reception room 
and began to talk with the Marquise d’Oul, and they 
forgot I was there, so interested they were in their 
conversation. I had often heard her spoken of and 
not always with as much respect as she merited. My 
husband never mentioned her. He always avoided 
mentioning anyone of the old noble families for fear 
of hurting my feelings, knowing that I came from 
humble stock. 

I looked at her with some curiosity, through the 
vista of rooms. She was small and dainty in dress 
and had a face like one of the bisque dolls in the 
shop windows, and a profusion of blonde hair. They 


44 


LETTERS OF "AN 


seemed to be great friends. Certainly I could not 
wonder at it. They belonged to the same circle. I 
remember hearing someone say that her husband is 
an old imbecile, half blind to his own and wholly 
blind to his wife’s faults. I must say I did not like 
her, even though she is a marquise. Finally she 
went away, and my husband made his state bow, 
and kissed her hand. I must tell you about this 
bow. I never saw anyone bow with such dignity 
and grace, and it seems that the person to whom this 
salute is made gains a new importance. 

First, he, the Count, draws his right heel to his 
left instep, and holds it stiff as if there were no joints. 
Then he puts his left hand across his breast and 
lets the right hang doWn by his side. He bends for- 
ward until he could touch the floor with his hand (I 
was about to say his elbow) and then slowly rises 
again and unhinges his joints. If it is a lady to 
whom he bows, to show his respect he takes her 
fingers in his right hand and lifts her hand to the 
level of his lips while bending, and, as he does this, 
he raises his eyes as if in ecstacy at the honor she be- 
stows. It was this most graceful and beautiful tribute 
I think that most attracted me to him. There was 
something so studied about it and so set, that it 
showed that it must have taken generations of noble 
blood and training to have produced such perfection. 
My dearest Count always kissed my hand this way 
when anyone was present — even before the servants, 
and I assure you I appreciated it. No American 


AMERICAN COUNTESS, 


45 


could ever begin to do it so well or with such 
empressement. 

Just for a moment contrast that gallant, studied and 
impressive action, so full of meaning, with the hurried 
peck on the lips or cheek, as an American husband 
grabs his hat, says good bye to his wife and rushes 
down town to hustle for money for her. Dozens of 
times a day his hair stands on end, but he toils and 
rushes through it and comes home to her at night too 
tired to speak. Of course she misses the delicate 
attention, and often resents it. How much more de- 
lightful to have a husband who is not obliged to go 
to work, and so lose so many of the little graces of life. 
My dearest Count could not fail to remember all the 
things which now make him charming, even if he did 
have something to do, I am sure, for it is inborn with 
him, you see. 

To return to the dressmaker. I chose a beautiful 
costume of black Chantilly over a slip of pale pink 
taffeta, and there was a lot of tiny paillettes to brighten 
it up. They were wrought along the design in the 
lace. There were fluffs of under ruffles of pale pink 
chiffon, and the lace of the waist and sleeves was 
backed with it. This gave it a delicate lightness. 
Around the neck was a ruche of chiffon and I thought 
I would fasten my five diamond stars along, half 
buried in the chiffon. 

I really had beautiful jewels. Some were from my 
mother, and some from. my aunt, and the others father 
had given me at different times, Christmas and on my 


46 


LETTERS OF AN 


birthdays. The ‘‘family jewels/' of the ancient line 
of de Pbche-vide et Piednu, were not so fine as the 
others, but were more showy at the first glance. I 
made a mental inventory of what I should wear, and 
that naturally included my coronet. This is set with 
diamonds and pearls. It hurts across the head to 
wear it. It does not fit the shape of my head, but I 
never dared admit it. 

After the little Marquise d’Oul left, the Count 
sauntered back to where I was and asked if I had 
made my choice. All at once I began to tremble, for 
I had thought only of the gown and not the price, but 
to my surprise he approved of it, and paid without a 
murmur the six hundred and fifty francs. I could not 
get over my surprise all the evening. How often 
you have seen me pay three times as much for an 
ordinary costume and think nothing of it. But now it 
seemed as if I had been almost criminally extravagant. 

Well, the fateful day came, and I prepared for it 
by an early walk and drive, and before dinner I lay 
down in a darkened room to rest. I was most anxious 
to look my best, and I tried to reconcile my desire for 
an appearance of cold, calm dignity, with the fact 
that my face in repose is not half as attractive as 
when I smile. My teeth, dimples and figure are my 
best points. My complexion is still good, and part 
of that is due to the very plain diet which my best 
beloved furnished, for he it is that caters in all our 
table supplies. I have never been able to get used to 
this, but as I know w^hat a loving and careful fore- 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


47 


sight actuates him in doing this, I try to hide the fact 
from him. It would wound him to the quick if he 
thought that I did not feel satisfied with what he finds 
sufficient. That is to say he used to do the catering 
in Paris. 

As I said, my complexion is fine, even yet, after 
two years of close rooms and bad air. My husband 
hates a current of air as you would a snake ; so, when 
he is at home everything is closed, and opened as 
soon as he is out. I cannot live and breathe like him 
in the musty records of the past. 

After dinner I dressed. I had already done my 
hair to see how the coronet would look. I piled my 
hair up in a high mass to support the coronet, and 
found that it looked well. 

Aided by Nanine, I put on my dress, which fitted to 
a charm. Then came the jewlels. I put mother^s 
riviere around my neck, and pinned the five stars as 
I had intended along in the chiffon. I put Aunt 
Mary’s long rope of splendid pearls around my waist 
to hold my fan. I fastened my sunburst and my 
spray of diamonds with the necklace the dear Count 
gave me along the front of my waist like a stomacher. 
Three single stones of great beauty were put in my 
hair near the back, and lastly the coronet was added. 
Without a bit of vanity I may say that I looked almost 
regal, yet I feared that my refined husband might 
find something to criticise. I had an elegant wrap 
which I had never worn, and which was part of my 
wedding outfit. 


48 


LETTERS' OF 


When the Count was dressed he came into the grand 
salon where I was standing. Without speaking a 
word he walked twice around me and then said : 

‘^You will do.^’ 

I was so glad that I could almost have fallen to 
my knees and my lips trembled with joy. Ah, he is 
so good ! 

We drove about for a long time after leaving home, 
in the crisp air, as the Count wished to reach there 
only after the crowd had assembled, and during the 
ride he laid down the laws of polite society to me 
until I could hardly contain my impatience, though I 
well knew it was done for my own good. The 
street was not encumbered with smart carriages with 
pretentious footmen, as at our swell functions at 
home. In fact, the few there had an ancient and 
ramshackle appearance. But the house was large and 
handsome, with a mouldy elegance. From within one 
heard many voices and much laughter. 

I assure you, Caroline, that never in my life did my 
heart beat with such violence. Everything swam be- 
fore my eyes. I Was glad to have a moment^s respite 
in the dressing room. I asked for a glass of water 
and they brought me the water with some lumps of 
sugar. Scarcely anyone drinks clear water, and con- 
sidering how very bad it is one cannot blame them. 

As I came to the door, my dearest was there waiting 
for me, and he looked so handsome! No wax figure 
in a window could compare with him, oply that he 
looked so small beside me. I am seven and a half 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


49 


inches taller than he is. One of the maids in the 
dressing room, said in French to the other, and I 
translate what she said: 

^‘She is a handsome lady, and so young T* 

'‘Yes,’' said the other, “and has such a dot. The 
duchesse and all the others think she will do some- 
thing fine to help the cause.” 

“Her dot will not last long under the claws of the 
white owl.” 

I moved out of hearing, but I have -been wondering 
ever since to know what she meant by the white owl. 
Maybe it is politics. It may be that the pretender 
goes by that name. I will ask. 

I had determined to sacrifice beauty to dignity and 
when we stood before the Duchess d’Uno to pay our 
respects I was fairly glacial. I found her a stout, 
dark woman, rather large, with a big, good natured 
mouth and double chin. She greeted the Count, say- 
ing: 

“Ah, mon cher! And so you have consented at last 
to show us your treasure. My dear Countess, I am 
very, very glad to meet you.” 

As she said this she smiled so broadly that her 
good nature was infectious and I could not help smil- 
ing “all over” as my mother used to say. At this 
she cried: 

“But she is a great beauty, this new Countess of 
ours. Ah, gentlemen, feast your eyes upon this fresh 
American beauty.” 


50 


LETTERS OF AN 


To my great relief some others came along and we 
reached a sofa. 

‘‘Sit down/’ said my husband. I did so. 

You may think this is all a strange story for a girl 
to tell who has been through three seasons in New 
York, but it is exactly how I felt. I knew the people 
there where one is as good as the other, but here 
wiiere everything was so different, I became as timid 
as a child. Had it not been for the infinite patience 
of my dearest husband I could never have lived 
through it all. 

I sat on the sofa for a short time while the Count 
stood beside me. Some gentlemen came along and 
seemed to expect something from him, and finally, 
with a very bad grace he presented three of them to 
me, and he elbowed some others by rather uncere- 
moniously, I thought, but then, of course, I did not 
know who they were nor whether he considered them 
worthy his friendship. 

The three gentlemen whom my dear Count pre- 
sented were, first, the Count de Washboardy, the 
second was the Marquis d’Apreslebal, and the third 
the Duke de Nulpart. The Count and the marquis 
were young, that is to say under forty, and both in 
the matrimonial market, as they were both at the very 
end of their resources. The one follows the other 
as a natural sequence in France. 

The duke must have been at least 85, but he had an 
astonishing wig of brown curling hair, and very pal- 
pable false teeth, and a complexion made up with the 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


51 


greatest care. His voice was cracked and strident, 
and his laugh a dry cackle. He set himself the task 
of making a conquest of me. The Count was evi- 
dently annoyed, and yet he kept his eyes on the door. 
He would every minute say to me in a quick whisper, 
‘^Don’t talk,’' and soon he told me to rise. It was 
this way through the whole evening. It would be 
‘Xevez-vous, asseyez-vous or ne parlez-pas.” It made 
me so nervous that it is a wonder that I knew what I 
was doing. He was so anxious for fear that I should 
make some mistake and disgrace his noble name. I 
felt grateful to him though it did annoy me to be told 
what to do as if I had been a child. 

After the first half hour everybody was as nice to 
me as possible. My poor little head was filled to over- 
flowing with the grand titles of the people there. 
Count, viscount, marquis, baron, duke, prince, and an 
English earl. His wife was called “her grace.” 

The women were dressed all sorts of ways. Some 
had awfully old dresses, and dreadful false fronts. 
Others were as elegant as only French women can 
be. But there was no one with handsomer jewels, 
and but one as young as I, and she was a girl under 
her mother’s wing, being displayed for conquest. She 
was a timid little thing, but I knew just how long it 
would take her to get over that timidity when she had 
an establishment of her own. At one time a group 
was gathered around her and I was among the peo- 
ple there. An old lady was pulling another to pieces 
at a great rate, when someone spoke and said : 


52 


LETTERS OF 'AN 


“Oh, Duchess, do be careful; there is the inno- 
cence of youth here.” 

I often had heard this but it never struck me as it 
did just now, and I thought it one of those remedies 
that are worse than the disease. If no one called at- 
tention to the fact that the story was not fit for young 
ears, it might pass unnoticed, but now if there was 
anything in it not quite understood, that girl is bound 
to find out what it all means. 

I left the group and went over by a window, for 
my head began to ache, and the air was close. The 
old Duke followed me, and kept up his ridiculous 
compliments. I tried to ward them off as well as I 
could, without insulting a nobleman of such exalted 
position. At last he burst out: 

“Ah, but I love you. I adore ” 

“Oh, Duke!” I said, foolishly, not being able for 
the moment to think of anything else to say. “Oh, 
hush! You must not speak that way to me. I am 
married.” 

“That don’t matter, that don’t matter,” he said 
hastily, and in such a matter of fact tone that I could 
not help laughing out loud. He was such a rickety, 
doddering old thing that it was too comical to resist. 
I looked around to find my husband, but he had disap- 
peared, and after a long time I saw him seated off in a 
corner with the little Marquise d’Oul. 

I did not lack attention from anyone, man or woman, 
but everyone seemed to me to have an' axe to grind 
and all turned on the question, “Did I know of any 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


53 


other nice American girl with a fortune, who would 
marry ’’•the son, brother or some friend of the speaker. 
It was so well understood by them all that all the 
American girls were hoping for the chance. One old 
lady told me that she had seriously thought of letting 
her son Adolphe go to America. 

She pointed him out to me, and he was the most 
insignificant little specimen of a man I ever saw. Why’ 
my dear Bonito was almost a giant beside him. His 
forehead was receding and his nose a sight to see on 
a face otherwise so small. His eyes had no expres- 
sion whatever, and in my heart I pitied this woman 
to have such a miserable looking child. But she soon 
disabused me as she asked me if I did not think him 
handsome. She continued talking of him and how 
that other men with not half his appearance or talents 
had found great heiresses. She was gracious enough 
to say that after seeing me she had felt all her preju- 
dices melt, and if her Adolphe could find a young girl 
like me she would be happy. 

I felt very uncomfortable, and grew still more so 
as I heard the different persons talk. Why, they were 
as familiar with the names of our rich men’s daughters 
as we are. They know all about us, and all we ever 
know about them is that we never know anything. 
The American girl is not brought up in the same way 
as the girls of their country, and if we are favored 
enough to be admitted to their charmed circle, it is 
because our money is necessary to their happiness. 
These are the reflections of five years, and not what I 


64 


LETTERS OF AN 


thought at that reception. The man and woman of 
two nations cannot seem to amalgamate so they can be 
really happy. Not so in our case, for I was not one 
of those who love their own way best. I knew that 
I had renounced my nation in wedding a foreigner, 
and that now my lot was cast in another place, and as 
my beloved and best Count was so good as to wish 
to make me altogether French, in education as well as 
the habits of the country, it befitted me to be grateful 
and try humbly to profit by his teaching. 

I also felt this evening that everybody who took the 
trouble to talk to me was trying to find out from me 
how much the cause was going to gain by my money. 
They did not know that the Count kept it all, and I 
could not tell them. They all had something grand 
and touching to tell of the great man whom they 
were striving to place upon his legitimate throne. 
Half the time I did not hear what they were saying, 
for my eyes would stray over to the corner where 
my husband was still talking to the Marquise d^Oul. 
I felt a little vexed that my husband should pay such 
marked attention tb anyone but me, let alone one so 
pretty, but I could not blame her to like to be near 
him. I always felt that it was a privilege too great 
to last. 

With my mind in a whirl over it all I began to 
have a headache, the first I ever had. I think it was 
the sharp edge of the coronet pressing down so heavily 
upon my head. I afterward found that there should 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


55 


be a velvet roll put along the edge, but I was not ac- 
customed to wearing coronets and didn’t know. 

Supper was announced, and well — my dear hus- 
band’s words were true when he said that the noble 
families did not have to observe rules made and fol- 
lowed by commercants and parvemies, for never in 
my life did I see ladies at home pick bones with their 
teeth, nor eat with such charming disregard for 
English modes. And as the wine they drank mounted 
to their brains, they made more noise, and laughed 
louder and more boisterously than any company I was 
ever in, and some of the New York set can do a little 
something in that way. 

The fat Duchesse d’Uno is called one of the richest 
of all the nobility of France, though one woman told 
me that she was really not of the old stock. Well, the 
supper she gave us, made me feel that after all it must 
be the fashion everywhere except at the hotels to live 
very closely. The supper was scanty and the quality 
poor. I was astonished. 

After supper I felt so very ill that I asked the 
Count to take me home, and he did so; that is to say, 
he took me down to the carriage, after we had made 
our adieus, and put me in and then gave the driver 
orders to drive quickly home, but he went back to con- 
spire, I suppose. 

I could not sleep. I had reached the top of the 
pinnacle, and had been welcomed into one of the 
houses of the haute noblesse and made one of them. 
But it left an unpleasant taste in my mouth in spite of 


56 


LETTERS OF AN 


me. I could not single out one person there who 
was in the least what the Spanish call ‘^sympatica/’ 
I would not care for scarcely an acquaintance with 
them had they not belonged to the nobility. They are 
not desirable in any other way. Bearable, I might say. 

I wanted so much to know what my dearest hus- 
band thought of me, and what the others thought, but 
he did not come home until daylight, and I lay awake 
crying With disappointment and pain. 

The next morning the second cook we had had since 
Minnie had heard the argument, left at a moment’s 
notice, and the butler got intoxicated and we had no 
breakfast, and would have had no dinner had not the 
Count, always thoughtful as he is, said: 

“We cannot go hungry, my dear, and we will ride 
out to a place where I used to go sometimes, and we 
will dine there. It is a famous* place for the old stock 
of the true nobility of our great France.” 

Whenever the Count said France, he gave it like a 
salvo of artillery, and rolled the r’s like musketry. But 
he is a man of peace, unless someone insults him. 
Then he is a terror. He has had seventeen duels, 
and never been wounded yet. I think he never 
wounded anyone himself either. 

But, my dear Caroline, the story of that dinner is 
too long to put in with all I have written here, so 
next letter will tell you all about it. I really wonder 
my hair did not turn gray. 

If I keep on I shall tell it, so I stop right here. 

Your loving Sy3. 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


67 


LETTER V. 

Dearest Caroline: — 

This letter is to be considered as a continuation of 
my last, since it deals with what took place at the 
dinner in the Rue de Suisse. 

My dear Bonito said: 

“My friend’' — all the married people in France call 
each other friend — “My friend, you s’all 'ave ze plai- 
sir to behold anozzer side of ze life of ze nobility of 
la belle France. Since ze canaille de Republic 'ave 
become in power ze mos’ noble of ze ancienne regime 
suffer in ze — what you call pocket. Zey can no longer 
show himself in ze place where ze parvenue exists so 
abundant plentiful. So some restaurateur he make 
a place only for ze sang azur — ze blue bleed of ze one 
time glorious France. And he make him cheap. So 
ze mos’ noble and ancient family get his dinner zere 
for one franc fifty, wiz one pint wine and bread at dis- 
cretion. You may zere behold ze count, ze marquis, 
ze prince; all, and learn what ze nobility can suffer/’ 

“Is the dinner so very bad, Bonito?” I asked quite 
innocently. Actually be raged and pulled his hair as 
he answered : 

“Ah-h-h ! So it is zat ze outsprung of ze American 


58 


LETTERS OF AN 


chemicals man can make ze plaisantries about ze 
gran’ sorrows of ze legitimes of Fr-r-rance! Make me 
ze plaisir to spik not while we are at our dinnaire.” 

I felt terribly to think I had inadvertently touched 
upon so tender a spot. I began to think over all that 
I had heard about the sufferings of these poor stranded 
men wiho had no hopes, money, business or future, 
save for the improbable return to the throne of a king, 
or is it emperor? They live in the vanished glories of 
the past, and exist in the most squalid manner. There 
is no hope for them save in a rich marriage. Their 
names are all on the syndicate roll waiting for a time 
when they shall be dressed, fed, and put upon the 
open market. It is pitiful. They might better their 
position if they would only work, but noblesse obliges 
them to sponge on others, when they have spent all 
their own money. 

We reached this wonderful restaurant after travers- 
ing some awful looking streets where poverty reigns 
supreme. The place was dull without and more than 
dingy within, and smelled so horribly of garlic, stale 
wine and coarse tobacco, that I would have begged 
to be taken out had the place not been filled with noble- 
men — the most of them conspirators. 

I simply could not eat the horrible dishes set before 
us, while my dearest love, to show that he was one of 
them, ate what they all did with apparent relish. It 
was a table d’hote dinner. I was greatly inter- 
ested in the novelty of it and pitied the last 
members of the illustrious families whose names in the 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


59 


old days had added lustre to the country. Looking at 
them as they are now, one might think that all the 
lustre had centred on their threadbare clothes and 
their noses. 

My dearest Count appeared to be the centre of all 
regards, though a lew did look at me. Nods and 
smiles passed round, and very polite bows. One would 
have said they were all trying to make a good im- 
pression upon the Count for some occult reason of 
their own. I suspected they were hoping that he 
would furnish some money to conspire with. 

But my noble husband kept his severe and almost 
haughty dignity and responded but icily to all the 
amiable efforts of the diners. . 

When the time came to settle for the dinner he 
demanded a rebate because I had not drunk my wine. 
While this wordy discussion was going on a gentle- 
man approached. He was well dressed, and they two, 
the Count and he, were the only ones who were dressed 
in decent clothes. 

He made a low bow, and asked the Count for a mo- 
ment’s interview. With conscious pride my noble 
husband swelled out his chest, and said: 

“I am at your service, monsieur, though I cannot 
imagine in what way I can serve you.” 

“I was about to go to your residence to-morrow, 
but as I have had the great good fortune to meet you 
here, I will tell you what it is about. I am most 
anxious to go to Marseilles to-morrow, as my mother 
is very ill.” 


60 


LETTERS OF AN 


My dearest Count bowed with an air of extreme 
solicitude for the sick woman, of whom he had proba- 
bly never before heard. It is in just such little things 
that the superiority of his beautiful nature is shown 
at its very best. The gentleman continued, but in a 
low voice, so that no one could hear it, and said : 

“Monsieur le Compte, I am delegated to see you and 
say that knowing your great talents and remarkable 
intellect, many of your friends and admirers desire the 
honor of your consent to place your illustrious name 
on the list for the approaching election as Deputy 
for Meurthe-et Moselle ** 

“Deputy! Deputy for this republique! Never, you 
insult me — ^they insult .me — ^me the last Count of 
de Poche-vide et Piednu. I have the honor to give you 
my card. A friend shall call upon you to-morrow to 
arrange the meeting.” 

“But, say. Count; this is not meant for an insult. 
We were young boys together at the Lycee ” 

“I do not know you, sir. My witness will see you 
to-morrow,” replied the Count with an almost kingly 
air. 

All the noblemen around us who had witnessed this 
affair offered to be the bearer of the missive in the 
morning. All of them made a hero of my husband 
for his contemptuous refusal to accept any office under 
the republic. 

I was frightened nearly to death, and sat gasping 
in my corner. Finally, just as the crowd' around him 


AMERICAN COUNTESS, 


61 


seemed to be ready to ask him for money to help the 
Cause, my beloved husband said : 

“But I am forgetting in my just anger that I have 
Madame la Comtesse here. Gentlemen, au revoir. We 
shall meet at the club to-morrow.” 

Saying that the Count took my arm and led me from 
the place. The fresh air revived me somewhat, but I 
was naturally in a terrible state of anxiety. We 
reached home to find it cold and dark, the servants 
had returned and gone again, and quite a number of 
valuables went with them. I went to bed and sobbed 
myself to sleep, thinking of the dreadful prospect of a 
duel wherein my dear, dear and noble Count might be 
killed or disfigured. He went out as soon as I had 
gone to bed. 

The next day was a terrible one for me, as my hus- 
band was away all day arranging for the duel. That 
there was to be one I knew, for during the day several 
of the nobility, ladies and gentlemen whom I had met, 
called and discussed the affair in quite a matter-of- 
fact way. 

The Baroness de S. said : 

“If he should be killed, which, however, rarely hap- 
pens to French duelists, the title will always belong 
to you.” 

I was so angry that I could scarcely keep the words 
back, for I felt her enmity and jealousy. I was 
shocked. They all seemed to take the duel as a matter 
of course, and not likely to have a tragic ending. But 


62 


LETTERS OF AN 


I could see nothing but my dearest love stretched 
bleeding, perhaps dying on the ground. 

I determined to stop the duel if I could. 

During the afternoon I drove to the American Con- 
sulate. I had known the Consul at home, and so felt 
bolder. I asked him how I could stop the affair. He 
laughed in what I thought a very offensive way, par- 
ticularly as it was to me a life and death matter. He 
said: 

“Don’t feel the least uneasy. French affaires d’hon- 
neur are like the Canadian woodsmen’s fights — all 
noise and no danger.” 

He advised me to go home and stop crying, and 
let the matter alone. I hated him. I ordered my 
coachman to wait for me the next morning at daybreak 
and to follow the Count’s carriage, wherever it went. 
I intended to be there. I had graduated in “First aid 
to the Injured” and I resolved to take such things 
along as might prove useful. 

Somehow the concierge had secured for us a tem- 
porary butler and cook and maid, so that we might not 
starve. I never slept a moment that night, and when, 
before it was light, I heard my precious husband mak- 
ing what might be his last toilet, I slipped^out of bed 
and dressed also. 

I thought he had intended to go quietly out without 
coming to me, but he could not be so cruel and heartless 
as to do that, and, when he was dressed, he came in to 
say good bye in case he should remain on the field of 
honor. This nearly killed me, and I*^wept and^begged 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


63 


him to give up his awfu) plan. To this he pleaded the 
same old thing, noblesse, oblige, and that the man had 
insulted him so greatly that nothing but blood could 
wipe it out. 

‘^Not when I tell you a little secret that ought to 
make you very careful of your precious life?’^ I 
sobbed. 

“Madame la Comtesse! I am very proud and happy, 
but I should be unworthy of my son, if I ’ave allow 
zose canaille of Republican to invite me to join zeir 
party. I am a royalist ; zat I stay.” 

“But, Bonito, the royalists can never hope to return 
to power here. Is it not better to be a deputy with the 
party in power ? Think how much good you could do.” 

“Ah, it is a shame to offer me to be a simple deputy. 
If it 'ave be senator, I so insult s’ould not be. No, 
Madame la Comtesse, I mus’ go to ze fiel’ of honnaire 
and show if I ’ave ze sang azur, or no. Not? Au 
revoir.” 

As he said this he waved his hat and tripped out. 
I had played my last card and lost. So, all I had to do 
was to follow. This was strangely easy, for the coupe 
containing my beloved Count was followed by several 
others with witnesses, a surgeon and friends. I drew 
the curtains and followed along to an unfrequented 
spot in the Bois de Boulogne. I noticed that there was 
another coupe with the curtains down, and wondered 
if that contained the other anxious wife. 

We had drawn to one side, and I looked out on the 
field of battle, but could scarcely see or hear so blinded 


64 


LETTERS' OF AN 


were my eyes with tears, and so violently did my 
Heart beat. I recalled the Spartan woman who gave 
a shield of her husband, saying “Return under it or on 
it.'' But I am no Spartan. 

Then suddenly two pistol shots rang out and I 
screamed. So did the other woman. Then all the 
“assistance" gathered in one spot in a dense crowd, 
and I could not control my fear and ran forward. 
So did the wife of the Deputy and also the little Mar- 
quise d’Oul. Even in this tragic moment her presence 
struck me as singular. Still, when I saw my noble, my 
magnanimous husband stand there on a slight emi- 
nence with his arms crossed, holding a smoking pistol 
in his right hand, I forgot all else in my relief. 

It seemed that this Deputy had wished, for old 
friendship's sake, to propose the matter to the Count, 
and in a short time the whole matter was explained 
and the two principals shook hands. I remember that 
at the time it seemed to me that it would have been 
better had the explanations been given before the 
duel, but they do such things differently in France. 
I know that the Deputy's wife was as frightened as 
I, and as glad when it was over. But I never could 
quite remember just how the duel ended. All that 
I can recall is that my dearest husband stood there 
like a small sized Greek hero, and declared his honor 
satisfied. They had exchanged shots — and besides, 
there were ladies present. That ended the discussion, 
only somehow the principals and seconds and wit- 
nesses all shook hands, and someone proposed that 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


65 


we should all go to the restaurant and have a dejeuner 
d la fourchette. 

The two principals went in the same coupe, and the 
royalists wrapped themselves in a triple fold of 
dignity and pride and came along. At the breakfast 
the little marquise was so brilliant and witty that 
she kept everyone laughing except the royalists, and 
they paid strict attention to the breakfast, and ap- 
peared to make up for much lost time. 

My noble and heroic husband finally rose to his 
feet. He looked better, as all the rest were seated. 
Then he begged leave to propose a special toast, and 
when everyone was waiting with raised glass, he said, 
while he suddenly seemed to grow a foot taller : 

‘T drink, ladies and gentlemen, to the future Count 
de Poche-vide et Piednu, who will be with us in a few 
months.'^ 

I felt all the blood in my body rush to my face, and 
I wished to sink into the very earth, but I tried to re- 
member that “other countries, other manners,” and 
that such an announcement v/as quite in order in that 
one. If I turned red, I noticed with surprise that 
the pretty Marquise d’Oul grew strangely white and 
old, all in a second. She tried to smile, but only drew 
her lips back, and her hand trembled so that she 
spilled her wine. 

Soon after that we went home. My dearest love 
was so tender and considerate that it seemed he could 
not do enough for me. He stayed a while and set the 
household matters on a proper footing for the next 


66 


LETTERS OF AN 


day and then left me to repose, and mercy knows that 
I needed it after all I had gone through. 

Then the Count went to his club and I did not see 
him until the next day at noon. When I went into the 
dining room there was an enormous pile of news- 
papers all containing the story of the duel, and it sur- 
prised me to note how very unanimous they were in 
praise of my beloved. I had expected that the Repub- 
lican papers would abuse him. After he had glanced 
at them he gave me permission to cut the pieces out 
and paste them in his scrap book. I had never known 
of this book, but in some ways my dearest is quite 
secretive. This book was half full of clippings. He 
showed me how they should be arranged. I was more 
than ever proud of him. 

That evening the ever considerate Count remained 
home quite a while with me. He said that now the 
prospects were that we should be blessed with a son, 
it would not be meet that we remain in an apartment, 
no matter how elegant or grand it was. He must 
have a hotel. And as he could not risk his and his 
son’s life in any old microbe filled house of another 
family, he proposed to build a place worthy of his beau- 
tiful countess and his son. 

''But perhaps it will be a daughter,” I hesitatingly 
said. 

"Madame, I wish a son, not a daughter,” he replied, 
as if that absolutely settled the question. 

After that every day he was closeted with architects 
and builders and men with land to sell, until at last 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


67 


he decided upon a place near the Champs Ely sees, and 
in an altogether desirable location. I took little inter- 
est in it, and I was miserably ill. I was not allowed to 
walk, and my rides were at a snail’s pace. My clubs 
and exercising machine were taken away by the doc- 
tor’s orders. I missed and needed my fresh air, and 
pined and lost appetite in consequence. Besides, I 
was alone in a strange country and the ordeal was a 
terrible one to face with no friend near. 

About this time my dear. Count surprised me by 
saying : 

'‘Do you not sink zat your avare, but not too much 
blamable fazzer will make a what you call a provision 
for my son?” 

“Why do you not say 'our son ?’ I am sure I have 
as much right as you,” I answered petulantly. 

“Madame, you forget zat in zis country ze foreigner 
v/oman she ’ave nossing. No private fortune, no sepa- 
rate house, no personal revenue, no children. It ees 
all for ze ’usban’. My son ees mine, but if hees gran’- 
fazzer like to make heem some fortune, zat ees what 
you call all right. I keep ze monnaie for my son, for 
hees expenses and hees education, I make him wiz 
zat monnaie. What you sink?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” I answered. “I think that is a 
matter better left to my father himself.” 

'“Well, you can told him, and perhaps he will un- 
derstan’ ze great ’onnaire which ’ave arrive at him.” 

At this moment M. Zadonie, the Deputy with whom 
the Count had fought the duel, was announced. This 


68 


LETTERS OF AN 


surprised me, as he had never been invited. I think 
I mentioned this, and my husband replied: 

“Anozzer time you ’ave say somesing quite sage 
for yourself to say "who nevaire sink, and is so small 
often sage, how you call it? Wise? Oh, yes. You 
’ave say, 'Why you don’t be deputy, to do somesing 
good for ze peoples, and ze royalists can nevaire for 
you do nossings only all ze time demand more mon- 
naies?’ Zis man he off airs me to be Senator, and I 
sink I take him.” 

"Will not the election expenses be very great?” I 
asked. 

"Always monnaie — always monnaie! Zat is all 
you ozzers can sink about. For me, I despise ze dol- 
laire.” 

This letter must come to an abrupt close as com- 
pany has arrived. So till the next time, your own 

Syb. 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


69 


LETTER VI. 

Dear Friend Caroline: — 

In my last I told you about my dearest love and 
his heroism, and also foreshadowed an event of the 
greatest importance, the birth of my only child. Of 
my mental and physical sufferings during that time 
I will not speak. Things are so different in France — 
so very different — that we will not even think of it — 
it is too horrible to even recall after all these years. 

My dearest husband was made the proud father of 
a noble son. From the very first I had nothing to say 
about the care of my own child. The only concession 
I could obtain was to nurse him myself, for I abhorred 
the system of giving the babies to other women for 
the purpose. The Baroness told me that I was al- 
lowed to nurse my baby because it would serve two 
purposes, and they were, first, it would keep me at 
home and prevent giving any social functions, and 
second, it would save much money. I scorned her 
insinuations. She laughed and said that some day I 
would know more about the French nobility than I 
had yet learned. 

I may add that the Duchesse d’Uno had taken upon 


70 


LETTERS OF ’AN: 


her plump shoulders the burden of being godmother 
to my baby, and a penniless prince was godfather. 
The little fellow was enveloped in costly wraps and 
carried to church, and baptized without the consent 
or counsel of me — ^his mother. Of course, I was not 
present. I was told that it would be considered highly 
indelicate for me to be present! 

They gave my baby a name half a yard long, em- 
bracing almost every cognomen on the list. I had 
wanted to name him for my father. His name was 
not among those bestowed upon the child, but it sud- 
denly seemed to occur to the dear Count that perhaps 
my father might be offended, and therefore not make 
the ‘‘provision'^ he had suggested for his first grand- 
child. So, ever considerate and just, my Bonito gave 
me permission to call the -child Edward. This was 
an afterthought, and too late for the purpose, as I 
had already written to my father about the christen- 
ing, and who were there, and who were the sponsors. 
I had not yet received a reply. 

During the time of my illness the Count show’-ed 
the greatest consideration and delicacy. Not to 
wound my susceptibilities he kept away in the most 
magnanimous manner, just coming in morning and 
evening to enquire how I was, with as much ceremony 
as though I had been a queen. He was so tenderly 
solicitous about the baby — I scarcely dare speak of 
the heir to the house of Poche-vide et Piednu as a 
baby — ^but he never touched him. I must admit that 
it was not a pretty baby. The upper part of the face 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


71 


was too broad, the nose long, the eyes small and 
sunken, and the chin as much too small as the ears 
were too big. His ears were really then as now 
enormous. But, even as a new-born babe he was sur- 
prisingly like his father. Hie became somewhat 
prettier as he grew older, but he is not even yet a 
pretty child, I am sorry to say, and he is unusually 
small for his age. I had hoped he would take after 
my family in point of size. Still, at four years one 
cannot tell what a child may grow to be. 

From the first my beloved Count appeared to be 
as he is to-day, perfectly satisfied with the appearance 
of his son, but he never was a demonstrative father, 
nor is he a demonstrative husband. He says that we 
should take his affection for granted, since he chose 
me out of all the world to be his countess, the mother 
of his children. I must confess that I had one or two 
wicked thoughts just then, one being that not 
he but the" syndicate chose me, and that I had all the 
children I wanted. 

Then, after a long delay my father wrote me in 
answer to my private letter, which the Baroness had 
sent for me — for she had become a real friend, though 
I was always afraid of her blunt speech — and the let- 
ter which my husband had virtually dictated, an- 
nouncing the birth of our son. 

I thought my dear Count would burst a blood 
vessel or go insane when the contents of that letter 
became known to him. In it father said that he had 
sent a silver service for the child, and had purchased 


72 


LETTERS OF AN 


land to the value of fifty thousand dollars to belong 
to his grandson when he should have reach his major- 
ity. He added that this land would surely be worth 
half a million by that time and perhaps more. He sent 
his love to me and asked for the child’s photograph, 
but he never mentioned the Count. 

I could not blame the poor Count for feeling so 
hurt, but I was scarcely prepared for such a display 
of ungovernable rage. 

‘^Ah’” he shrieked, am punish and well punish 
for ’ave stoop so low as to marry me with ze outspring 
of so abominable cochon — w’at you call peeg. He 
’fraid to give to ze most noble Count de Poche-vide 
et Piednu ze monnaie for hees son. ’E ’ave buy ze 
Ian’ wiz hees ignoble dollaire expressly zat I cannot 
touch him. I will be revenge — I will show him what 
I am. I will to-day begin a process — what you call 
suit law — and compel for give hees gran’son a fortune 
convenable ” 

And he continued in this vein until I at last grew 
tired of hearing my father reviled. I suppose my 
nerves were a trifle unstrung, or I should not have 
answered as I did. I said : 

‘*My father gave me 25,000,000 francs for my 
dowry, and I think that ended his obligation. I do 
not remember of a clause in the contract to the con- 
trary. With such a sum you should certainly be able 
to provide for one child. We are by no means ex- 
travagant ” 

“Ah, make me not enrage ! Ze bagatelle which your 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


73 


fazzer ’ave gaven is for anozzer mouth not enough. 
Sink you, madame, zat a de Poche-vide et Piednu can 
himself make a hotel from ze vile smells of ze chemi- 
cals? Not so, nevaire! Zat hotel, he cost vair much 
monnaie, but it is but half make yet now. Vere shall 
comes ze rest of ze monnaie from? What upon 
shall we eat, and dress, and complete zis hotel?” 

^^And you have in this short time spent all my 
dowry, and were counting upon my son’s inheritance 
that you may use that, too?” I asked, surprised into 
an impatience beyond bounds. 

^'Madame, I forbid you to ask questions with me. 
You have no dot. Ze maigre sum was gaven to me 
zat I should make you noble, but alas! zat is outside 
beyond my power. All ze millions in ze worl’ cannot 
make ze old chemicals man’s child noble. I tell you, 
I can no more proceed wiz ze hotel. An’ I ’ave be 
request to be senator. Zat ’ave made me to give much 
monnaie. Zis expense establissement require mon- 
naie. My club, where I am appreciate like I merit, 
cost monnaie. My three horses of bloodiness make ze 
race and zat cost monnaie. I lose monnaie zere 
with ze what you call race. My frien’ which was to 
me good when I ’ave not nothing — ah, I mus’ not for- 
get zem. Zat demand monnaie. Ze chil’ he cry, cry, 
cry for vat? For monnaie in nurse, in doctor, in eat, 
in everysing. You mus’ write your fazzer zis and tell 
him zat I mus’ have some more monnaie, ozzerhows I 
can no longer maintain zis luxuriousment apartement 
manner. If he send it not you can go to your fazzer 


n 


LETTERS OF 'AN 


and live in ze barraque wiz heem from vere you have 
earned from/' 

I was roused to genuine anger, and this gave me 
courage, and I told him hotly that never in my life 
had I lived so meanly as I had as his wife, and added 
that I would take my baby and go home to my father. 
I saw my mistake the moment I had finished speak- 
ing, as he laughed sardonically and said : 

‘‘Oh, zat is ze way you was spoking, eh? Very 
good ! You may go so soon vat you like, but you not 
can take my son. Ze law cannot give to you my son. 
You are nossing — nobody — you have no legal exist- 
ence — no rights. Your country zat you sink so grand 
can do nossing for you. Your fazzer is nobody. He 
is nossing. You are a French citizen. So if you wish 
to be permit to nurse my son, you s’all to your fazzer 
write zat he give monnaie for finish ze hotel, and ze 
furnish. Ven I come senator it mus' zat I 'ave finish 
ze hotel.” 

will not write to my father for money, after his 
generosity,” I cried angrily. 

“Zen I take my son from you, madame, for you to 
show zat you are not digne — what you call worthy 
for nourish heem. He might come like you. Zat 
would afflict me, so I leave you to sink some. I remin' 
you ze American pos’ he go to-morrow. I will pos’ 
ze letter to-night.” 

The Count then left me, and I was so over- 
whelmed with all he had said that I could scarcely 
keep from screaming aloud. I vowed I would not 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


75 


write, and ended in a burst of tears which calmed me 
somewhat, particularly as the nurse begged me to re- 
member that I was in danger of ‘^turning my milk” 
as they say. I did not know what that meant, but for 
the sake of my baby I tried to calm myself. After 
a while my better self gained the ascendancy, and I 
began to recall the noble qualities of my dear hus- 
band and I remembered the difference between the 
natures and customs of the people of the two countries. 
I knew that the one dominant idea of his whole life 
was the restoration of the vanished glories of his il- 
lustrious family. 

I thought of the many demands upon him. I knew 
that aside from his debts to the syndicate and others, 
his exalted position made it almost obligatory that he 
should spend large sums. It is the fashion for all 
the nobility to bet on races and to keep race horses. 
I knew that at the clubs they played at cards — and 
some had even more extravagant expenses. I felt 
secure in my husband’s love, so what mattered a little 
or even a lot of money. He had shown his love clearly 
in keeping our distressing financial position from me 
so that I should not worry while nursing the baby. 
They think a good deal of that in France. 

Well, as I weighed the question and recalled my 
beloved’s many qualities, and his high descent, I felt my 
anger melt away, and at last I began to think 
what I could say to my father. I finally sat down and 
wrote to him, telling him that we were building — I 
said we, but I had scarcely seen the plans — a home 


76 


LETTERS OF ’AN. 


worthy of his daughter and his grandson, to uphold 
their position, etc., and that the Count was running 
for senator — and in fact I told him everything I could 
think of that might move him to send more money. 
I knew that he had plenty and that I was his only 
relative, and I knew how generous he always was. 

When, after dinner my dear Bonito said: 

‘'Is the letter ready, Madame la Comtesse?’’ 

I just gave the letter to him without comment. He 
read it over, and finally nodded his head, saying: 

“C'est bien; very well. Now I will put her in ze 
pos^ for make sure she go. It mus’ be hope zat your 
fazzer will see ze gran’ opportunity which he ’ave. 
Madame la Comtesse, I salute you.” 

Then he took my hand and kissed it with his best 
bow and his most engaging smile. I wanted to take 
him in my arms and kiss him and then stand him 
up on the mantelpiece for an ornament, he looked so 
exquisitely beautiful. 

The next afternoon the Baroness S. came to see 
the baby. You would not believe, Caroline, how that 
woman of the world loved that child. She watched 
for the first tooth ; she somehow knew by instinct how 
to soothe him if he was fretful, and cajole him to 
smile. She told me that she spent her very happiest 
hours with us, and I really believe it. Tlie baby 
actually knew her and held up his little hands to 
her when she came. I was glad to see her. After a 
while she said : 

"Countess” — ^we always gave each other our titles, 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 

for they were really all we had to give — “Countess, 
has the Marquise d’Oul ever seen the baby?’’ 

“Why, no,” I replied, remembering that fact for the 
first time. 

“Well, don’t ever let her. She would put the Evil 
Eye upon him.” 

“Why should she dislike my child?” I asked. 

“Because she hates you,” was the reply. 

“But why should she hate me? I have never done 
her any harm.” 

“Don’t you know? It is no secret in all Paris.” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” I answered, begin- 
ning to feel cold and numb with apprehension. 

“I think you ought to know, and I shall tell you. 
She and the Count are, and have been lovers ever 
since the first month of your marriage. He is mak- 
ing her the most extravagant presents — a rope of 
pearls last week that I could have sworn was yours, 
and horses, and an automobile, and — mercy, what 
ails you?” 

I suppose that I did show that I felt shocked, but I 
rallied and said: 

“Baroness, I know that people have had that idea, 
but it is not so. Bonito is too devoted ” 

Then I began to cry, and she consoled me by telling 
me not to fret over what all French people consider 
such a venial offence; that French husbands were all 
of the opinion that such things were right and proper 
for them, though not for their wives, and that the 
higher they were in the social scale the more latitude 


78 


LETTERS OF AN 


custom allowed them. No doubt the Count loved me, 
and always would, but that any American girl that 
marries a Frenchman should know his little weak- 
nesses and overlook them. They are inborn and de- 
veloped by the custom of the country. 

Somehow the more she argued the more degraded 
and unhappy I felt. Then I remembered about thfe 
letter I had just sent to father, and I begged her to 
post another to him, which I at once sat down and 
wrote. In this I scrawled something of the truth, and 
begged him to come and help me to get away with 
my baby. 

Scarcely had I finished when my dear Count came 
in. I must say that I felt like a criminal. He went 
to the safe and opened it. I thought I would show the 
Baroness all my jewels, so that she would be in a posi- 
tion to deny any such injurious rumors about my dear 
and noble husband, and so I said to him : 

^^Bonito, will you hand me my jewel box? I was 
just speaking of them to the Baroness, and would 
particularly like to show her my rope of pearls.” 

His face was scarlet, from the exertion of opening 
the safe, I suppose, when he replied coldly: 

‘T hope Madame la Comtesse de Poche-vide et de 
Piednu does not require that her word should be 
substantiated.” 

^‘No, dear, not at all,” I hastened to say, “only I 
wished to show her my pearls.” 

‘T had the misfortune to break the string and so 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


79 


took them to your jeweller’s to be arranged,” he re- 
plied, “but I will bring them on my return.” 

Saying this he closed the safe and walked out 
with his most consequential and grandest air. I 
could not help feeling a little elated that the Baroness 
had heard and now knew that the Marquise d’Oul did 
not have my pearls, at least. 

She left me soon after, and though I had intended 
to take back the letter to my father, now that Bonito 
had so honorably exonerated himself, I forgot all 
about it and she posted it. 

I did not, could not believe that my noble minded 
husband was capable of a common intrigue like that, 
but every little while something would occur to my 
mind to confirm it. Still I fought against it, and at 
last convinced myself that it was untrue, and somehow 
I felt very angry with the Baroness for telling me. 

Well, it is late, and I must give up and rest, as I 
have many things to do to-morrow. 

With love, your own 


Syb. 


80 


LETTERS OF ^AN, 


LETTER VIL 
Dearest Caroline: — 

I am glad that you are so much interested in read- 
ing these letters. The pleasure is mutual, I assure 
you, for it is a pleasure to unfold to your gaze the 
many fine and elegant characteristics of my dear hus- 
band's beautiful nature, and show you that at least 
one international marriage is an unqualified success. 
Ah, if all the foreign noblemen were as good as my 
Count, there would be less talk against international 
marriages. Why, many of the most noble of them 
actually beat their wives if they, poor things, dare to 
complain of the way they spend the dowry, and live 
fast and unsavory lives. But as you know, my dear 
husband, even when he is most angry, has never even 
made a threatening gesture. I am afraid if he did 
that my wicked temper would get the better of me, 
and — well, I am so much stronger than he that I fear 
the consequences — and it may be just possible that he 
takes that fact into consideration. But that is wrong- 
ing him, for he could not do such a terrible thing. 
He is far too noble. I know you would appreciate 
him. 


■AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


81 


I think my last letter ended with the revelation of 
the abominable scandal that had been put intO' circula- 
tion about him. After thinking it all over I decided 
to take no notice of it, as I felt sure it was an election- 
eering story intended to do him harm, for I remem- 
bered how, in our country, every candidate is abused 
by the opposite party. As a good wife it was my 
duty to stand up for my husband. I knew that with 
the Count’s haughty manner he would naturally make 
enemies, and I really felt quite light hearted again. 

During the afternoon the Count sent a message to 
tell me to be ready to go to the opera that evening, 
as he was to be there with the Deputy and his wife. 
He added that he would be home in time to 
give me my jewels, and that it was his desire 
that I should do him honor. I decided to 
wear the same pink taffeta with the lace — in- 
deed, I had no other. When I went to look for a 
pair of gloves I had not one single pair that would 
answer. You see, since the baby came I had neglected 
myself a little. Worse yet; I had not one single 
franc. I did not know what to do, so at last I was 
obliged to confide in the nurse and send her for a pair, 
as I knew it would be toO’ late when the Count re- 
turned. She paid for them. 

When the Count did return he seemed so irritable 
that I did not have the courage to ask for money for 
the gloves just then. He opened the safe and gave me 
my jewels, and I put them on. Somehow the coro- 
net had lost much of its lustre, but I did not mention 


LETTERS OF AF! 


82 

it. The Count took my rope of pearls from his pocket 
and gave them to me. They were sO' light that I 
could not repress a movement of surprise. And they 
were so deadly white that I kept turning them in my 
hands. 

''Eh, bein! What is the trouble? You ask your 
pearls, I ’ave gave you zem. You should count zem 
also.’’ 

"These do not look nor feel like my pearls. The 
rope was twice as heavy,” I answered hesitatingly. 

"I ’ave tell ze jeweller to make zem clean of ze 
American pork graisse, and you know zem not. Zey 
’ave require a bath and zey ’ave ’ad ze bath. Are you 
ready ?” 

I put the pearls on, and though they were very light 
they weighed heavy on my spirits. I could not help 
thinking of what the Baroness had said the day before, 
but I resolutely determined not to allow myself to 
believe anything wrong of my beloved husband, and 
I was glad of it afterward, for it all came out as he 
told me. The jeweller was a scoundrel and had sub- 
stituted imitations instead of my costly pearls. The 
Count said that he had begun ' a suit against the 
jeweller, but he feared he should not win it, as he 
had thoughtlessly accepted the pearls without special 
examination. I must say that I felt relieved, though 
I naturally regretted the loss of that fine rope of pearls ; 
still, now no one could say that anyone else had them. 
I had never for a moment thought that the Count 
was a party to the changing of them. 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


83 


The Deputy and hiswwife were waiting for us in the 
loge, and there was a little buzz of excitement and 
many glasses were^levelled at us. I sank into the seat 
quickly, but the Count stood as long as the proprieties 
would allow, before seating himself. I suspected that 
this was done to give his constituents^, a good chance 
to see him. 

At first I could not quite understand why we went 
with the Deputy, who, but a short time before was 
engaged in mortal combat with my husband, and then 
I remembered that it was doubtless his present inten- 
tion to take his stand with the Republic and this 
was the means. But, if that was the object, there 
were so few Royalists present that he lost half his 
gratification. His triumph was very one-sided. 

The opera delighted me, for I had not been before 
since I was married. The dear Count always said so 
sweetly that he could not bear to have anybody see and 
envy him his treasure, so I was proud to remain at 
home alone. I enjoyed the music, the beautiful pic- 
ture made by the ballet, and scene, and I think I en- 
joyed the attention that I could plainly see we were 
attracting. 

The entr’acts are so very long in the French opera 
to allow the gentlemen time to visit all their lady ac- 
quaintances in the different loges, and soon my hand- 
some Count — and I was so proud of him — and the 
Deputy left us, and his wife and I were left alone. 

Some friends of hers dropped in, but as I did not 
care to extend my list of acquaintances, I drew back, 


84 


LETTERS OF ’AM 


complaining that the lights tried my eyes. I did not 
at all like the way they tried to pay me extravagant 
compliments, and so came as near turning my back to 
them as strict politeness would allow. 

Scarcely had I sat down there when I heard some 
men speaking in German, just outside the grating. 
I spoke German as well as French, and so understood 
the conversation. 

^'Yes,” one continued, “they say that he has kept her 
shut up like a sultana ever since they were married. 
She goes nowhere and receives scarcely anyone, and 
yet she is said to be very clever and amiable, and she 
certainly is handsome — an ideal countess.’' 

“The Count says she is very eccentric, and prefers 
her books to society. She is even said to be interested 
in chemistry.” 

“That may be, but it does not excuse his ruinous 
extravagance. What with the White Owl, and we 
both know something of her exactions, and the pace he 
sets with the actresses and the premiere danseuse, be- 
sides his astounding losses at cards and on the turf — 
well, I wonder how much longer he can keep it up.” 

“The old adage of 'put a beggar on horseback and 
he will ride to his ruin.’ I feel sorry for the poor 
countess here alone.” 

“Why don’t you try to console her?” 

“Oh, no! Those Americans. You never know 
whether you dare attempt consolation or not. The best 
thing to do with American women is to keep on your 
good behavior. They are so curiously frank and! 


’AMERICAN COUNTESS, 


85 


fearless that one is apt to think — well, I tried it once, 
and I have had enough. But to think of that little 
shrimp — he isn’t even a lobster — running through her 
fortune so. The jewels and houses, horses and 
flowers, to say nothing of costly paintings and bric-a- 
brac that he showers on the premiere danseuse and 
the White Owl would make your hair rise. Dealers 
can sell him anything if they only ask enough, and 
that hotel, he will never occupy it. And to think he 
never had a second coat to his back until the syndicate 
took him up. And now, they say, that his very boot- 
jack is made of gold and studded with diamonds.” 

The other joined in the laugh, and then remarked: 

^‘His name exactly expresses it — Piednu et Poche- 
vide, or vice versa.” 

At first I did not realize that they were speaking of 
me and of my poor dear husband. When I did it 
was too late to move away, and I was really too 
stunned to have done so anyway. Somehow I was so 
stunned that that feeling and a dim remembrance of 
where I was, kept me calm. I made no outward show 
or sign of emotion, unless my smile might have 
seemed forced and my face pale. 

When the Deputy returned the Count was not with 
him, and he did not make his appearance until just 
before the curtain went down, and then he accom- 
panied me to the carriage, but, as he made no move- 
ment to enter with me I asked if he was not coming 
too. 

'That is not your affair,” he replied, so icily that I 


86 


LETTERS OF AN 


felt my very heart sink. This, after what I had 
heard was the sharpest wound I had ever felt, and I 
wept myself to sleep with my little baby in my arms. 
Of course I knew that not one word of this abominable 
scandal against my noble and high minded husband 
was true, but I wanted to hear him say so. But in- 
stead of that he told me that it was not my business 
where he went or what he did. It was too much. 

But in the morning this cloud was in a measure 
dispelled by the Count’s exceeding kindness at break- 
fast. He had ordered a beefsteak for me. True, 
the cook had fried it until it was as hard as a piece of 
board, but it was meant as something to please me, 
as he said my appetite had appeared poorly lately and 
it would not do for a devoted little mother to become 
enfeebled. 

I told him that what I needed was my old way of 
life, brisk walks in the open air and my exercises. 

'Trepdsterous !” he said. 'It is not safe for a 
young mother to walk and exercise like a washer- 
woman. Nor is it proper for a young woman to go 
traipsing off alone like that,” and he ended by telling 
me that when his son was a year old he should send 
him to the country to board with a farmer’s wife, and 
then I could do as I pleased. 

I felt that I grew pale, but I said nothing. My fear 
was too great. He finished by saying : 

"Ze party, she sink zat I s’all be elect, and zat will 
not be to my displaisir. Your fazzer, he mus’ soon 
answer ze lettaire, not? When I be senator it will 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


87 


be necessaire to receive, an’ ze hotel he mus’ finish. 
I ’ave spik wiz ze building mans an’ zey go ’head. I 
tell zem zat zey will be pay wiz your fazzer, an’ zey 
say ‘all right.’ ” 

With this he went out jauntily, looking so beautiful 
that I actually ran to the window like a silly fool to 
watch him as he climbed to his seat in his automobile, 
which was a fine one. It had already killed two and 
maimed four persons. 

Then I came back to the baby, and in spite of me 
the cares and worries settled over me again. I could 
not help weighing all I had heard with what I had 
seen, and the fact that poverty seemed staring us in 
the face in less than two years after having had five 
million dollars. Yet I am glad to be able to write that 
I never for one moment allowed myself to doubt the 
noble and austere character of my husband. In spite 
of all I have always believed as I do now, that he is 
the very soul of honor, 

\At the end of the month I was surprised by the 
visit of my father’s most confidential man of business. 
In spite of himself he looked shocked by the change 
in my appearance, but soon passed it off. He was 
very kind to me, and somehow, though I never said 
one word on the subject, seemed to understand our 
financial position exactly. He gave me a letter from 
my father, enclosing two bank notes for twenty-five 
thousand francs each. The letter told me to put my- 
self entirely in the hands of Mr. Stern, and also to 
hide this money and keep it for any great stress or 


88 


LETTERS OF AN 


personal need. He added that Mr. Stern would take 
charge of our business tangles and straighten them 
out, and it would be better if the Count consented to 
this arrangement, otherwise nothing would be done. 
The business man suggested that I destroy the letter, 
as it- might cause feeling against my father, so I read it 
again and then burned it. I hid the money as was 
suggested. 

Even before this creditors had begun to come to 
the place with unpaid bills, and some of them were 
very insolent, and I had noticed frequently of late 
that certain articles of value disappeared. But I had 
learned to say nothing. 

One day I happened to enter the back parlor where 
the sofa stood, and I saw the Count standing with my 
mother’s riviere of diamonds in his hand. He was ap- 
parently judging of their value, for he was examining 
them critically. When he saw me he started and then 
drew himself up with dignity. 

^^May I ask the signification of this espionage?” 

He said this in French, though generally when an- 
gry or excited he lapsed into his broken English. 
I always like to here him mix his pronouns up. This 
time, as I said, he spoke in French. I stammered 
something when he replied 

'^Madame, it is on account of you zat I am reduce 
to zis terrible resource. Ze monnaies zat mus’ be pay 
for expense is too much. I have no more. My hon- 
neur is mingled therein. I mus’ pay, and to save my 
honorable name I mus’ have monnaie. My fazzer 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


89 


he ’ave gaven me zat honorable name, an’ I mus’ pre- 
serve it from rust-spot — what' you call it. Very well, 
zeze diamonds will be value for ze sum. I s’all place 
zem . at ze Mont de Piete, for ’ave monnaie for pay, 
for save zat honorable name,” etc., etc. 

As he said this he put the riviere in his pocket and 
walked out, leaving me actually incapable of speech or 
even tears. I suddenly understood now how it was 
that my coronet had lost its lustre and the rope of 
pearls their weight and bloom. The whole earth 
seemed crumbling. Then my better judgment re- 
gained its ascendancy, and I began to understand how 
much my noble husband must have suffered before he 
could so demean his grand name as to enter a pawn- 
shop. And how manly he had been about it to hide his 
sufferings even from me. I felt that he had sacrificed 
his own feelings to spare mine. I was very grateful. 

So the arrival of Mr. Stern had brought some. hope. 
But how to manage the Count with his high sense of 
honor and the value of his ancient name I did not 
know. But I told him at breakfast that Mr. Stern 
would be there at four o’clock and would be glad to 
see him on business. At first he was very angry and 
it took all my persuasion to induce him to consent to 
the interview. Finally I suggested that he might 
put the matter into the hands of his lawyer, but to my 
delight he rose to the occasion and said that he would 
meet this common rnan himself. And he would show 
him of what stuff the noble line of which he was the 
last was made. 


90 


LETTERS OP AN 


At exactly four Mr. Stern arrived, and in a surpris- 
ingly short time the Count came in. He had been 
home for some little time but had remained in his 
own room. I think I saw the heavy portieres move once 
or twice. Listening at doors and peeping through 
holes made for the purpose and which they call irons 
Judas, do not detract at all from the honorable char- 
acter of the French noblemen. It is not even noticed. 
So perhaps the Count wished to learn what he 
might expect, by some chance word said to me, that 
he might govern himself accordingly. You can im- 
agine how nervous I felt, especially as I saw an ironi- 
cal smile half form on the lips of Mr. Stern. 

As soon as the Count came in, I presented Mr. 
Stem to him. The American was a typical business 
man, large, decided, but quiet in manner and a perfect 
gentleman. He was a man of undoubted power, both 
physical and mental. My dear husband stalked into 
the room like Hamlet before the king and queen, and 
received Mr. Stem with the most frigid dignity. He 
merely waved him to a seat. If it had not been for 
his dignity, poor Bonito would have looked like 
nothing beside the business man. 

^‘May I ^ave ze plaisir to know ze business of mon- 
sieur?” began the Count in English. Mr. Stern re- 
plied in perfect French; 

‘T am here as the personal representative of Mr. 
Atwood, to inquire into the financial situation in 
which you are now placed, and from which Mr. At- 
wood is willing to extricate you — in his own way. If 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


91 


you will kindly lay before me the exact situation, we 
shall be able to come to some agreement, no doubt.” 

The Count was white with rage as he said : 

‘T have no accounting to make to anybody.” 

“What would be your idea, then ?” asked Mr. Stern, 
suavely. 

“That the Countess’ father should give me sufficient 
means to complete the building of my hotel, and pro- 
vide an income suitable to my rank, and for the proper 
care of my son.” 

“In a lump sum?” 

“Yes.” 

I could see Bonito rushing on to his ruin, for I 
knew the iron hand inside this soft velvet glove; but 
my husband did not, and I was so placed that I could 
not warn him. I sat there cold from head to foot, 
while he smilingly asked, as though it was the most 
natural thing in the world : 

“And about how much would that be?” 

“I cannot get along decently with less than one mil- 
lion dollars contmt, and two hundred thousand dol- 
lars a year paid monthly.” 

“Is that the very least you can accept? It is a great 
deal of money.” 

“It is. My honorable name ” 

“We will waive that, if you please. Now, I will 
tell you what Mr. Atwood is willing to do. He will 
pay for the finishing and furnishing of your hotel, as 
you call it, and allow his daughter fifty thousand dol- 
lars a year, paid quarterly to her only. What legiti- 


92 


LETTERS OF AN 


mate debts you have incurred he will pay, and take 
his daughter’s jewels out of the pawnshop. I shall 
remain in Paris one year, and I will take charge of the 
building. Mr. Atwood does not propose to pay a com- 
mission on the building expenses. A thing like that 
has been done once before. But he will pay no debts 
incurred after this hour. Those are his terms.” 

There was something in Mr. Stern’s voice and man- 
ner that made the words fall like drops of ice, and 
I knew that not one iota of this oifer would be altered. 
With my father Bonito might possibly have won a 
better and more liberal offer for my sake. My father 
loved me, his only child, and he had never refused 
me anything, but he had put Mr. Stern in his place 
with precise instructions, and he would follow them 
without weakening. 

The Count tried to keep up his frigid dignity, but the 
insults heaped upon him in this way seemed to break 
his Avill and resistance. The only thing he said was : 

^Wou seem to be well informed about my move- 
ments.” He said this with an ironical air, intended 
to overwhelm the American with discomfiture, but he 
simply raised his head and looked right into the 
Count’s eyes, as he said slowly, but without raising 
his voice : 

‘T have been here ten days, and I have not lost my 
time.” 

My poor husband opened his mouth but no sound 
came forth. He was utterly crushed. Mr. Stem 
continued : 

‘T was acting under instructions. Now, to business. 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


93 


When shall I expect the list of debts — and the 
vouchers? Shall I call here or at your club?” 

The poor Count at last said : 

“Here.” 

He did not even try to haggle or make any further 
demand. He had more than met his match. After 
Mr. Stern had gone I tried to console him, but he 
turned on me like a tiger and screamed : 

“Go away ! Depart ! Canaille of ze American chemi- 
cals man ! Go away ! Oh, mon honneur ! Quel 
blessure !” 

I left him raging around the room and pulling his 
hair, for I was really afraid of him, though I pitied 
him from the bottom of my heart. I could have 
wished that father had been less severe ; yet I felt in 
my heart that he was right, but also that the unfor- 
tunate Count was not to be blamed because he had 
not understood better business methods. How could 
he? He had never had any money of account until 
he got mine, and he did not know how to manage, that 
was all, and I think it is wrong to blame the poor 
noblemen for being so prodigal when they at last do 
get hold of what to their inexperience seems illimit- 
able wealth. I never blamed Bonito. Nor would 
you, my dear Caroline, if you knew him. 

Oh, my ! there comes dear old Miss Simpkins — our 
teacher of deportment while we were at school to- 
gether, and I must go down and have a good visit with 
the poor thing. So, au revoir. Syb. 


94 


LETTERS OF AM 


LETTEll VIIL 

Dear and most patient of Carolines : — 

Your last letter shows how much you are interested 
in my simple little recital, and so I feel bound to con- 
tinue it, although what I shall now write belongs to a 
very unhappy period of my life. Not on account of 
my dear husband, but from the evil conjunction and 
aspect of my planets, as the astrologers say. 

I left off my last letter while telling you about the 
arrival of Mr. Stern. Well, that gentleman, for he 
is one, through and through, despite his plebeian 
birth, as an American citizen, took hold of our busi- 
ness matters and in a short time had straightened 
them out of their tangle and had paid the debts, and 
they were many. I did not wish to remain in the 
room while he and my poor husband were settling the 
matter, for I feared that he might feel wounded to 
have me hear the discussion about my jewels. But 
he didn’t, for his high birth and breeding lifted him 
infinitely above and beyond any sentiment of shame. 
Mr. Stern quite agreed with me that it would be bet- 
ter for me to avoid details. He assured me that his 
instructions from my father were complete and un- 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


95 


alterable, and that I need not feel uneasy. My poor 
Bonito first tried his most glacial haughtiness, but 
Mr. Stern quietly ignored even his presence save as 
far as the business was concerned. 

It gave me such a pang when all my jewels were 
handed to me by my father’s man of business, that I 
thought I should sink into the earth, for everything 
that I possessed of value was there. Even my rope of 
pearls was there. Later I heard that the wicked 
minded people had said that the White Owl had really 
had my pearls, and that by some occult means she had 
been forced to return them. Then Mr. Stern, to 
protect me from dishonest servants and thieves, ar- 
ranged with my father’s bankers to take charge of my 
jewels, giving them to no one but myself. I felt so 
mortified at this last clause that I could not lift my 
eyes nor say a word. I knew that in this instance my 
father was judging my dear husband by his own 
standard of honor, and I assure you, Caroline, that our 
standard differs widely from that of the nobility of 
not only France, but many other countries, when it 
comes to a question of a wife. 

The debts being paid, Mr. Stern busied himself with 
the completion of our palatial home, and he really ac- 
complished wonders. The unhappy Count had re- 
ceived such a blow to his honor that he seemed to be 
utterly cowed, and scarcely spoke to me at all. If, 
during this time he had really taken three hairs from 
his head each time he pulled it, he would have been 
bald in a week. 


96 


LETTERS OF AM 


One day Mr. Stem said that he would like to have 
my opinion on some details of the house we were 
building, and as I had never yet seen the inside of it 
I went with him. I found on the second floor a wide 
hall through the front part, and on each side of this 
suites of rooms. One suite of five. rooms was designed 
for the Count. There were three in line on one side 
of the hall, and two at the end, forming a sort of L 
shape, with the corner room reserved for the Count’s 
bedroom. On the other side there were three rooms 
for me, and there was no bathroom in either suite. 

The salons were magnificent ; large, high, and gilded 
to such an extent that they dazzled the eyes. The 
dining room and library were also fine. But the rest 
had such an undeniable appearance of the plaster orna- 
ments seen on the Exposition buildings, and which are 
expected to be torn down in a few months, that I sud- 
denly felt such a distaste for the whole thing that I 
knew I could never feel at home in it one moment. I 
suppose Mr. Stem had been watching me, but I was 
startled when he said : 

'T rather thought you would feel that way.” 

I felt the ready tears in my eyes, but tried to hide 
them, and he continued : 

^Tt is not too late to have baths added, and steam 
heat, but we shall have to cable for them and for men 
to set them. I think, in view of the rigorous climate 
in the winter here, this house, built as it is, would be 
pretty cold. And I imagine that a woman with a lit- 
tle child would require as much room as a man alone. 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


97 


We can throw the end room on your side into your 
suite, and the middle one can be divided and two bath- 
rooms made.” 

“Oh, do whatever you like, I shall never like this 
house. It is like a white elephant with gold trap- 
pings.” 

On my return I thought about the place until I was 
on the verge of collapse, and then my beloved came in, 
and seeing rhy tearful eyes, asked very kindly what 
was my trouble. I told him that I had been to see the 
house, and it had nbt seemed to me to be all that so 
costly a building should be, and when he pressed for 
Sj^jecific complaints, I told him there were no baths. 
At this he grew very angry and said : 

“Zat ze American peoples are unclean I am sure, for 
I some of zem ’ave know, but zey mus’ be more zan I 
know, for require so much bath. Zey all want bath in 
hotel, in ze appartement, and make what you call ze 
kick. For me, I need not zat I sweem in ze water 
every day. I will have no vile bath in my hotel.” 

“But Mr. Stern has cabled home for baths, and also 
steam heating arrangements,” I returned. 

“Ah-h !” He fairly screamed and danced about like 
a wild man in his rage. “How he dare ? How he dare 
mingle him’s odious self in my affaire ! I will not per- 
mit it. I will — Ah — what for, woman, you are to per- 
mit zis man, zis common business man, to accompany 
you, ze Comtesse de Poche-vide et Piednu, in ze car- 
riage like somesing your equal ? How you dare wizout 
my permit to see yourself in ze street wiz heem ? How 


98 


LETTERS OF 'AN 


he dare considair himself ze right to say me what I 
shall have in my hotel T* 

In vain I tried to make him listen to reason. He 
would have no bath, and no steam heat in the place, 
and would permit no change in the plans. The revolt 
of his noble soul against the hard and mercenary spirit 
of my father found vent. He would not deign to dis- 
cuss those things with a low workman like this miser- 
able business man, but his honor was crushed, bruised 
and withered. How low he had sunk — and much more 
of the same sort. I really pitied him, and yet felt a 
sense of being protected and saved from unknown dis- 
asters when I thought of the firm and honest man 
whom my father had sent for the purpose. And yet, 
so strange are the workings of the human heart, I had 
almost begun to look upon Mr. Stern as an enemy. 
How could he, born and educated in such a hard, utili- 
tarian school as the business centre of New York, feel 
for the delicate sense of honor that pervades the whole 
being of the descendants of the ancient nobility? 
He could not, in the very nature of things, understand 
the difference in the passive existence of the nobility 
and the acute and strenuous life in the commercial 
world. 

He knew the value of money, for he had worked for 
it all his days, and my poor beloved Bonito had never 
earned a dollar in his life — has not yet — and I doubt 
if he ever will. So what more natural than that every- 
one took advantage of him and charged him five prices 
for everything? And, just because he had never had 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


99 


control of any money of account, he could not be ex- 
pected to know the real value of the things he bought 
so lavishly, mostly to gratify his taste for the beautiful. 
His too generous soul had doubtless listened to the 
sufferings of dethroned royalty, and what if he did 
lose at cards and on the race track? The very fact 
that he lost showed that be was no gambler and was 
an innocent novice in those things. I thought it all 
over and could find no blame in him. I even began to 
admire the Spartan simplicity of our home life. • He 
could have had everything that money could buy, but 
he rigidly confined himself to the very least we could 
get along with. 

While these thoughts flitted across my mind, the 
poor, injured Count was striding back and forth like a 
crazed person. His shrill voice aroused the baby and 
he began to cry. 

That seemed to give him a new idea and he branched 
off on the advent of this poor little creature. The 
child had brought all this cruel and abominable 
humiliation upon him, and finally he ended by saying 
that I was ruining its health by my silly American 
ideas. And I was destroying its disposition by my 
injudicious treatment. He would bear it no longer. 
He had been a weak fool to have let it go on so long. 
He would take his son to a foster mother the next day, 
that he might not imbibe more of my low and common 
washerwoman blood, which was tainted through and 
through by the horrible odor of chemicals. 

The whole scene was so terrible, that, weakened as 

LefC. 


100 


LETTERS OF AN; 


I was, by my forced seclusion from air and sunshine, 
and obliged to eat food that I loathed, I fainted for the 
first time in my life. The Count could never endure to 
see suffering in any form, so he took his hat and left 
the house, after calling the nurse to attend me. Of 
course I felt no hardness toward him, for I knew how 
acutely he had suffered, and that just in ratio to one^s 
sufferings is the explosion of wrath against the first 
uncomplaining person one comes in contact with. His 
very rage showed how cruel had been his wound. I 
did not forgive him, for that would have been to say 
that I had something to forgive. 

I was soon restored, and in a short time the Baroness 
came. I was sincerely glad she had come. I hoped 
that she could give me some idea as to how to manage 
about the house, for to me a home without baths and 
proper heating arrangements was not to be contem- 
plated. 

She had been married to a French nobleman longer 
than I had, and she knew more or less intimately many 
other American women who had done the same thing, 
and I hoped her experience and knowledge would 
make a little clearer the best way to live in peace with 
a husband of that nation and still retain one’s self- 
respect. I did so wish to be found perfect in the eyes 
of my adored Count, and I also wished to learn how to 
avoid wounding his susceptibilities. 

So, though feeling weak and nervous, I welcomed 
her warmly. She took the wailing babe and soon 
quieted him. I must admit that my child has a ter- 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


101 


rible temper. I might control it better if the Count 
did not always interfere and say that his son shall not 
be punished or contrarie. But with a little baby like 
that nothing could be done, though he literally squealed 
with rage before he was six months old. 

The Baroness de S. sat with the baby on her 
lap while she told me all the gossip of her set, which 
was mostly composed of members of the syndicate, 
and noble women with sons to marry to rich Ameri- 
cans, and a few of the old remnants of ancient families 
who were glad to go where they were sure of getting 
something to eat and a warm room to stay in for a few 
hours before returning to their squalid surroundings. 

We were quite animated over our tea, and I was 
discreetly leading the conversation in the direction I 
desired it to go, when Mr. Stern was announced. I 
asked him to have some tea with us. He said that he 
should really enjoy a cup of tea, and we went into the 
back parlor — library, the dear Count calls it — and I 
presented him to the Baroness de S. For a second 
he flushed, and then grew pale to the lips, while she 
was equally affected. I turned to the tea table to give 
them time to recover. As usual, the woman was the 
first to recover her coolness, and she said : 

'‘Why, Mr. Stern, who would have expected to see 
you here?” 

'T am equally surprised.” 

"I am so. glad,” she continued, with a queer little 
quaver in her voice. 


102 


LETTERS OF AN 


“The pleasure is mutual, I assure you,” answered 
Mr. Stern stiffly. 

“How splendid !” I cried. “I have been the means 
of bringing two old friends together. Your tea is 
ready.” 

“Thank you,” he said, taking the cup in his hand. 
He was so nervous that I feared he would scald him- 
self, so I made him let me put more cream in his cup. 
After a little the Baroness said to me : 

“We were friends in New York, before my mar- 
riage. I have not seen him since, and it was like see- 
ing someone from the other world. You know how 
one feels at meeting anyone from home.” 

“How do you like Paris?” asked he, still stirring 
his tea. 

“Oh, quite well. And you ?” 

“Not at all.” 

“You would if you were to remain here a year.” 

“I expect to do that.” 

“You must come and see us.” 

“Thank you.” 

The situation was becoming critical, when baby 
awoke and for a wonder in good humor. He gener- 
ally required an hour’s pacifying after a nap. So the 
talk branched out and after a while they began to 
speak of old times. The ice melted by degrees and 
We felt quite happy in our little circle. I did not 
need to be told the story of this little drama. They 
had been almost engaged, and she had come to Paris 
and before she landed had been portioned out to the 


’AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


103 


Baron S., and before she fairly realized it she 
was married and a member of the syndicate. 

I felt so bright and gay that I told Mr. Stern that 
the Count did not approve of baths or steam beat. He 
considered them unhealthy. 

yOh, well, we must try to convince him to the con- 
trary. I had hoped to find him here.” 

''He went out earlier than usual on some mat- 
ters connected with the election,” I replied. 

"My dear Countess,” said the Baroness, "I hope 
you will not feel too much disappointed if the Count 
should fail to be elected. I am told that he hasn’t a 
ghost of a chance. He has been led along, and 
played right into the hands of his enemies. He has 
held himself too high and mighty for the masses, and 
has cut himself off from the classes.” 

"But he says he is assured ” 

"Nothing can be assured.” 

"From what I have heard, I fear the Count will be 
greatly disappointed,” said Mr. Stern quietly. 

"Then I must try to console him,” I answered 
bravely, as I imagined a Roman matron would do, 
though my heart felt like lead. What a blow ! What a 
poignant wound this would inflict upon my beloved! 
He had thrown aside his allegiance to the Royalists 
only to be cast out from among the Republicans as un- 
worthy. I feared it would kill him. I suppose I 
became distraite, for both my visitors rose to go. I 
was glad to be alone, to try and gather courage for 


104 


LETTERS OF 'AN 


this new disaster. Before she went the Baroness 
said: 

‘^Oh, and what do you think? The little Marquise 
d’Oul has run away from her husband with that mag- 
nificent Russian prince. All Paris is talking about 
it. They have quite disappeared. Isn’t it abomina- 
ble?” 

When I was alone I began to reflect and I dreaded 
the outcome of the election. I had been the one to 
suggest it, though I had never imagined it would turn 
out so. 

As it began to grow dark the Count returned to 
dinner. He very rarely missed his meals at home, 
though he could have had far better dinners at his club, 
which was the most expensive one in Paris. He was 
really democratic in his tastes. 

To my surprise, and I may add satisfaction, he ap- 
peared almost gay, and I thought that if there really 
had been anything in that ridiculous story about the 
White Owl, he would have acted very differently, for 
such desertions are thought to wound a man’s pride, 
at least. So I felt my heart grow lighter of the load it 
had borne. He dressed carefully and well, and per- 
fumed himself until one would imagine him endowed 
with all the sighs of the roses of Persia. 

**Madame la Comtesse se porte hmv, I perceive,” 
he said lightly, as I took my place at the table. 
''This is a great night for me. I am to deliver three 
orations to-night. Zey will cause ze people to know 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


105 


zat I am ze only one worthy of ze high office of Sen- 
ator. To-morrow I speak three times more, in a new 
suit clothes each time, and after to-morrow is election 
time. Zen you s’all come proud zat I have honnaire 
you wiz ze glorious name of ze Poche-vide et Piednu.” 

‘^But don’t be angry, while I say this. You may not 
be elected. Something may occur. It is not well to 
feel too sure. You have enemies, and there are other 
candidates. I mean — I want you to be brave, so that 
if you do not win ” 

“Madame, I am not a coward. No living man can 
call me zat. But I s’all win. If I losed I would — how 
you call him — blow my brains outside. But only one 
sing can interfere, and zat is, I ’ave no more monnaie 
for pay ze expense. I ’ave gaven much before, but 
zere is always demand, and I can no longer give! 
Helas I” 

“Bonito,” I said, “do you really think it depends on 
money? How much?” 

“Helas! To-day ze committee ask me for twenty- 
five thousand francs. I ’ave but twenty-five francs 
fifty centimes in all my pocket.” 

I thought of the enormous expenses of elections, of 
the awful import of my husband’s words, and I said: 

“My dearest, my father sent me — a — bank note — 
for just that sum, and I will give it to you to help you 
through.” 

With a most magnanimous air he replied : 

“I will allow myself to accept, though my own wife 
’ave conceal from me zat she ’ave zis monnaie. Of- 


106 


LETTERS OF AN 


faire it to me, madame, and I will gave it to ze com- 
mittee. But deceive me not no more, never again, if 
my love and respect you desire to maintain longer.^’ 
He folded his arms like Napoleon on St. Helena, 
and I went to my escritoire and took one note. The 
other I had hidden under the carpet. 

He took it in reproachful silence, and with long 
steps and gloomy mien left the house. I felt con- 
demned for having hidden it so long. 

Yours lovingly, Syb. 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


lor 


LETTER IX. 

My dear^ good Caroline : — 

To resume my letter where I left off, I must, begin 
by saying that night I did not even hear the Count 
when he came in, for I had laid awake so long that 
when I did sleep it was very soundly. I was trying 
to think what could be done to save his precious life 
in case of his defeat. The next morning, however, I 
found him in good spirits, ready for the three orations, 
and with the three different suits all ready. In fact 
he had one on. ^ The pantaloons were of a delicate 
pearl gray, and his shoes had heels nearly three inches 
high. He used also to wear those little rubber things 
inside, which added at least another inch. But, in 
in spite of all, he was still a very small man. 

His coat was padded out at the chest and shoulders 
and the waist pinched in as tightly as possible. The 
skirt to the coat was long and seemed to me ridiculous- 
ly full around the bottom. He wore the coat buttoned 
closely over the chest. His hat shone so that one could 
almost see his reflection in it. In his cravat he wore 
a large black pearl of great value. This had never 
been put where my jewels had. 

His mustache was waxed to sharp points, and his 


108 


LETTERS OF AN: 


lips and cheeks were daintily colored, and one could see 
the rice powder when he stood near the light. He put 
on his pale gray gloves and took his cane and started, 
after having thrown out a couple of hints as to his 
shortness of funds. But I made up my mind to hold on 
to the other note, and keep it in reserve at any rate un- 
til after election. And I knew I should feel too much 
ashamed to let Mr. Stern know that I had given the 
money to my husband when it had been sent for my 
own self. But I felt that I had done right to give the 
money I did to save my dear one’s life. 

Twice more did my dearest love come home that 
day to dress, the last time in an evening suit, and away 
he whirled to address his constituents again. 

The next day the election took place, and of course 
I saw nothing of the Count, and heard nothing. Dark- 
ness came and still no word. Midnight, one, two, 
three o’clock, and still he had not come. I could not 
sleep, and finally I got up and slipped on a wrapper, 
and opened the window and looked out. 

I could hear people laughing and talking noisily, 
and their voices sounded loudly and clearly in the still- 
ness. 

''Well, the doll-baby is in a hole. He was never 
taken seriously, and there was no chance for him from 
the first. They thought that the big American dol- 
lars would be better spent on our side, and so he was 
drawn in. It worked all right for us, but the poor 
little manikin was dropped like a hot coal, in favor 
of . It is finished for him.” 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


109 


This set me nearly wild. The Count had lost; he 
had said that if he lost he should blow his brains out — 
consequently he must be dead. I saw him in my mind’s 
eye lying in a coffin looking like a beautiful wax figure. 
I closed the window and lighted the gas, and mechan- 
ically dressed myself as for the street, scarcely know- 
ing why. All the while my senses were on the alert 
for a sound. Finally, just as I was putting in the last 
hair pin, my adored husband opened the door and 
came in. 

‘^Oh, you are safe !” I cried. 

‘Tor w’y s’ould I not be safe?” he answered. 

“You were so late, and I was so anxious about the 
election. Is — is — it over ?” 

“Madame, it is over — ^all over — and I am not elect’ 
senator.” 

He said this with such a dejected air, that I feared 
the result. 

“Oh, Bonito!” I cried. “My dear husband, why 
do you care for the fickle public ? I beg of you, for my 
sake, and that of our dear child, to do nothing rash. 
Why should you harm yourself for people who care 
nothing for you?” 

“Bah ! What care I for ze vote of ze canaille? I 
s’all not myself shoot wiz ze pistolet. No, only when 
honnaire is losed, and my honnaire is not losed yet. I 
am still a Poche-vide et Piednu. Go you and sleep. 
Zese business of election is not for ze womans.” 

I was unspeakably grateful that my great hearted 
Count was so sensible and took his defeat so coolly. 


110 


LETTERS OF AN 


But the next day when some of the papers came out 
they ridiculed the poor Count so abominably that I 
felt new apprehensions rise in my heart for fear of 
more duels. And some of the journalists have very 
bad reputations as marksmen and swordsmen — ^bad 
for the adversary. All I could do, however, was to 
suffer in silence. 

Those fears, however, were suddenly and utterly 
dispelled by the arrival of Mr. Stem, whose face 
showed that he was the bearer of bad tidings. My 
dear husband had not risen, so I knew he was in no 
immediate danger. I waited for Mr. Stern to speak. 
He said: 

*^Miss Sybil — I mean Countess — I have just received 
a cablegram from Mr. Arthur — now don't be fright- 
ened — for probably your father will be well before you 
can reach New York, but he had a slight stroke, 
and wishes you to go to him at once, and to bring his 
grandson along. If the Count wishes to go there 
will be no objection. In fact, I think it might be 
advisable. 

‘T shall go, leaving the building in the hands of a 
safe man. Now, don't get excited, but try to be 
ready to start to-morrow when the first steamer leaves. 
If you need money call upon me. I shall come in this 
evening about five o'clock, and shall hope to see the 
Count." 

I sat dumb and dazed while Mr. Stern was speaking. 
When he went, I sat still, too shocked to move. I did 
not like to rouse the poor Count, who was taking a 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS, 


111 


much needed repose after so much worry and ex- 
citement, and so began to think of my dear father ill 
and alone. My own experience had been too recent 
to forget, and I recalled all his goodness to me. 
Never had he denied me anything — always taking the 
place of mother and father both. I longed to start 
that moment. 

At last the Count awoke and I lost no time in tell- 
ing him of the dreadful calamity that had befallen 
us. He took it very coolly and sat a long while in 
silence, and then he said so kindly and tenderly that 
I could almost have knelt to thank him : 

^^Very good. As you say it is your duty, and he 
mus’ see my son which are gran’son wiz heem, and 
hees daughter which is my wife. But I mus’ go along 
wiz. I cannot permit zat son go alone. I mus’ what 
you call sacrifice and go wiz.” 

“But, my dear, you need not go unless you wish. I 
can take Marie, and Mr. Stern will take care of us. 
If you prefer to stay ” 

“I 'ave say zat I go. Sink you zat I s’all stay here 
for all ze worl’ for make ze laugh to me? I ’ave lose 
ze election. I go and my hotel he can buil’ jus' ze 
same. Zen — well, we will talk about zat anozzer 
time. But where you fin’ ze monnaie for so expense 
voyage ?” 

“Mr. Stern has instructions. He will be here at five 
o’clock to see you. So I will have our packing done 
at once.” 

As soon as breakfast was over I had the servants at 


112 


LETTERS OF 'AN 


work and before night all my packing was done. I 
did not buy any new things, for what one cannot find 
on Broadway in New York, I don’t want. 

It took my dear love the whole of the next day to 
finish his packing, and it ended by dismissing all the 
servants except Marie. The apartment would remain 
closed until further orders. The building would go 
on as rapidly as possible. 

The Count was so condescending to Mr. Stern that 
at first I was quite surprised, but then I remembered 
that we were absolutely in his hands, and perhaps the 
Count had a realizing sense of the fact as well as I. 

I had sent word to the Baroness S., and she 
hastened to me. She was genuinely afflicted at my 
sorrow, and to think that the baby and I were going 
away. She told me that that very morning her hus- 
band’s creditors had siezed their horses and two car- 
riages, and had put in an execution for debt against 
their furniture. And all this for a paltry ten thousand 
francs. I thought of her position and did not hesi- 
tate, but went to the place where the other note was 
hidden and gave it to her with all my heart. I never 
saw a person so overwhelmed. She wept as if her 
heart would break, and, sobbing, told me that her 
tears were those of remorse that she had lent her aid 
to inveigle me into a marriage with a foreigner. We 
had a quiet hour, and it was then that I learned so 
much about the syndicate. 

To make a long story short, I convinced her that 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS, 113 

she need feel no compunction in my case, for I was 
really and truly the happiest of wives. 

I may as well tell the rest of her story right here, 
for it is too good to keep. That money went to pay 
the funeral expenses of the Baron S., who was 
killed by his horse that very day, though I did not 
learn it for some time. She settled up her affairs and 
came back to New York, a sadder and a wiser woman 
for her experience. She has nothing to do with the 
syndicate now, and I doubt if her husband, our Mr. 
Stern, would allow it if she wished to. She was mar- 
ried to him after the year and a day. They are such 
comrades ! It does one good to see them rushing off 
for a day as the pressure of business will allow. She 
is still fond of the boy. 

That brings me back to my dear Count. We had 
nearly finished our heaviest work, and were taking a 
little rest, when Mr. Stern was announced. It seemed 
that both men made me the one only object of solicitude, 
and Mr. Stern said he had telegraphed to Havre for 
our rooms, and as just at that season of the year travel 
was comparatively light, he had been able to secure 
two good staterooms, one for the Count and one for 
me and the maid. 

To my intense surprise, my dear love was as gentle 
and as ceremoniously polite to Mr. Stern as anyone 
could be. Not once did he mention money or his 
honor, which he values so much more. But at the 
end of our interview Mr. Stern handed me an envelope 
of large size and bulk, saying : 


114 


LETTERS OF APT 


'‘You will probably require some little things, and, 
under the existing circumstances, I feel justified in ad- 
vancing your next quarterly allowance now.” 

So I found that I could supply my patient love with 
money enough to keep him from want until we should 
reach New York, where I felt sure my dear father 
would provide for us. Dear Bonito took the money 
scornfully as I handed it to him, and threw it on the 
table, saying: 

"I care nossing for monnaie. It is ze dust under 
my feetzes. But I cannot go to a strange country 
wizout ze decencies of life. I will procure some per- 
fumeries. I would not go, for I know I s’all be much 
insult and humiliate in zat America, but my duty as 
fazzer compel it.” 

It occurred to me that his disastrous defeat of the 
day before was one of the factors in his willingness 
to sacrifice himself, but I was too anxious over father, 
and too tired to say so. I had learned to let well 
enough alone. 

Mr. Stern smiled quietly, but said nothing, and soon 
took his leave, and the Count went out to make his 
purchases, though I told him that he could find all 
kinds of such things in this country. 

In less than an hour he returned, and I could read 
in his discomfited air that he had learned how he had 
been duped by the Republicans, and that the Royalists 
were now making merry over his defeat. 

We retired early, as we were to start at 6 o^clock 
for Havre to reach the steamer in time. It all seemed 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


115 


like a dream to me, and I remember nothing of all 
that passed from the time we left our compartment 
until the steamer was out on the ocean. It is all con- 
fused and vague. I think I must have reached my 
limit of strength before the dawn of that day. 

I was so worn out with all my recent worries that I 
just remained in my bed four days. Fortunately, 
Marie was an excellent sailor, and we had pleasant 
weather, so that the baby was in no danger. The 
dear Count was terribly ill and did not leave his room 
until after I had gone on deck. I had missed his 
visits, but supposed that he thought I was also sea- 
sick, and did not wish to wound my feelings by coming 
to see me while I was in such distressing misery. 

Mr. Stern made inquiries as to my health, and I 
sent word that I was not ill but simply worn out and 
he advised the repose. He said the Count was all 
right, but I told Marie to ask. So I did not know 
how wretchedly ill he had been. But the fourth day 
he was on deck and dressed as faultlessly as ever and 
quite as carefully was his complexion attended to. 

After that we all met on the deck every day and 
pretended to each other and the rest of the passengers 
that we were having a fine time. The Count was in 
his element, for, if the English dearly love a lord, the 
French adore a count. He was the most important 
personage on board, and I learned through the gossip 
of the passengers that the Count was trying to master 
the intricacies of the interesting game of poker, and 
with disastrous results. Mr. Stern heard the gossip 


116 


LETTERS OF ’AN 


too, and had a short talk with my dearest, and I im» 
agine that he must have convinced him that it was 
beneath such a noble person to demean himself so 
greatly, for it is said that he never played, or rather 
tried to play again. 

I was too anxious about my poor father to care 
much what happened and the steamer seemed to 
creep. But at last we did reach home. I was in time 
to have the comfort of two days of communion with 
him. I found that he had been entirely speechless for 
two weeks, but the very day of my arrival he had re- 
gained the power of speech, and his mind was as clear 
as it ever had been. He questioned me very closely 
as to everything pertaining to my life in Paris, though 
somehow it was really quite difficult to show him how 
noble and manly and self sacrificing my beloved had 
always been, for he saw things from a different point 
of view. Then he sent me*out, and Mr. Stern and three 
gentlemen were closeted with him all the rest of the 
afternoon. It was then that he made his will, which 
he had never done before because all he had was to 
be mine, he had always said. But things were changed 
now, and naturally he must think of the Count and of 
his grandson. It is strange, but he did not seem to 
like the child, and had him sent out in a few minutes. 
Still, that did not hinder him from being what he al- 
ways was, just and generous. Mr. Stern said that my 
father had literally worn himself out by hard work, 
and that he had grieved over my marriage, as it had 
left him desolate. He had been advised to marry 


'AMERICAN COUNTESS, 


117 


again, that he might have his old-time life of hospital- 
ity and cheerfulness, but he said: 

‘^No, never ; I loved her mother too well to ever put 
another in her place, and now that my daughter is as 
good as dead too me, I shall just work until the end.” 

After he had finished with his business I was ad- 
mitted again and never left him until he had breathed 
his last in my arms. We came nearer to each other 
than we had ever done before, though I had always 
loved my father above all until my dear husband came 
between us. I somehow now saw the noble heart, full 
of love for me, and remembered how good he had 
always been, not only to me but to everyone with 
whom he came in contact. I sat beside him while he 
talked. It seemed that every little thing that I had 
ever done he had remembered and treasured in his 
heart. It was in that last day that I understood how 
deeply my father had always loved me, and oh, how 
unworthy I felt of all this tenderness! I could not 
help contrasting it with the love of my husband. 

Father died, as I said, in my arms with a smile such 
as words could not describe, so sweet and unspeakably 
tender and loving it was, and so truly happy. Oh, 
worlds could not pay for the joy of those last hours 
with my dying father! They were the sweetest I ever 
knew, though I knew too, that they were to be the last. 
There was no shadow between us then. I can write 
no more just now. Your own Syb. 


118 


LETTERS OF 'AN 


LETTER X. 

Dearest Caroline : — 

The funeral was over, and my father was laid to 
rest beside my mother, and we returned to the deso- 
late house. After a melancholy dinner we were as- 
sembled in the library to listen to the reading of the 
will. I really believe this will is the strangest one 
ever made. I inherited everything of which my father 
had died possessed, but the management of the estate 
was so restricted that it became almost a joke. He 
had evidently determined that my poor persecuted 
husband should have as nearly nothing as possible. 

In the first place, the house and all its contents were 
mine, but a strict inventory was to be taken and veri- 
fied onjce a year, so that absolutely nothing could be 
removed. I understood this. Next; all the old 
servants were to remain as long as they would, and 
before leaving each was to engage and instruct an- 
other for the position. A bequest was made to each. 
The sum of twenty-five dollars a week was to be paid 
to me in cash for pin money. Everything else that I 
needed for the house, or in any way to enable me to 
maintain my accustomed manner of living-in this coun- 
try was to be placed to my credit, but the bills should 
all be sent to the executors. If I were to decide to 
go abroad to live I would receive the twenty-five dol- 


^AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


119 


lars weekly, but absolutely nothing else, and no credit. 

I was to occupy my father’s suite of rooms on the 
first floor above the parlor, for myself and child, while 
the one above was to be for anyone whom I might 
choose to establish there. The sum of one million 
and a half dollars was to be paid to my son when he 
should reach the age of twenty-five, provided he was 
a sober, sensible business man. He would be afforded 
opportunity to enter the chemical house of which my 
father had been the founder. If this arrangement did 
not suit the father, he was at liberty to take the child 
to his own country, but in such a case that provision 
in the will would be null and void, and a young man 
who should be chosen from among the most capable of 
the chemists in the place should inherit it. Beyond 
this mention of the poor Count my father had absolute- 
ly ignored him. I thought it all over a moment, and 
said to Mr. Stern, who was one of the executors and 
was charged with the entire business management of 
both the chemical works and my personal affairs : 

“But, Mr. Stern, am I to have no money at all?” 

“Your father’s orders are clear and decisive. You 
have one hundred dollars a month, and almost un- 
limited credit for everything you can desire. All the 
wearisome details are spared you. All you have to 
do is to order what you want and send the bill to me. 
I will add so that you may understand the situation. 
Your father had some reason of his own to do this. 
We must feel that it is wise. There is no law in the 
land strong enough to break your father’s will. I 
have no desire to say anything against your husband, 


120 


LETTERS OF AN 


but even you must admit that he is not competent to 
manage your inheritance, nor that of your son’s.” 

Of course this was not said before the others. I 
continued : 

“But the Count is so furious that I fear he will take 
the baby away.” 

“You could not run fast enough to catch him with 
the child to make him take it if you wished him to do 
it. Of course the Count feels that he ought to own 
you, body, soul and fortune, as the men in his country 
do, but it is better for you and the child to remain 
here, and for the matter to be just as it is. Let your 
better judgment speak, and you will admit that I am 
right. Your father was wiser than you, and the 
sooner the Count understands the matter the better. 
You cannot deny that he spent an immense fortune 
in the most reprehensible manner in two years, leav- 
ing you and your child penniless and with nothing to 
show but debts. He would do the same thing again, 
if your father had not tied this one up so that he can- 
not. He really has nothing to complain of. He has 
a superb home, and higher social position than in his 
own country. He has his every actual want supplied, 
his carriage, his horses, his tailor, and he received the 
day before we left France twelve thousand dollars. 
He was doing his best to lose this on the steamer 
when I stepped in and spoiled the game. If he had 
control of your fortune he would leave you penniless 
again. Now, if he makes you any trouble send him 
to me.” 

“Oh, you do not understand,” I said. “It is as if 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


121 


father wanted to show his unworthiness in the matter. 
It is his honor that is in question and you know that 
he is the very soul of honor.” 

“Yes, I quite understand it all, and I shall try to ar- 
range things to spare you or him any humiliation be- 
fore the public. You tell the Count to come down to 
my office and we will talk the matter over quietly, and 
I am sure that he will see that it is for the best and 
will be glad that by this means his whole future is safe. 
I think you are at liberty to give away a portion of 
your pin money.” 

I was obliged to submit and that night I told my 
poor dear husband what Mr. Stern had said — with 
certain reservations. 

I had expected that he would be furious, but I found 
him cold, calm and resolute. He told me he had de- 
termined to see a lawyer and break the will. He 
would not permit such an insult to pass. He could 
not wipe it out in blood, but he would show the money- 
loving Americans that it was not wise to trifle with 
the flower of French nobility. He would then take 
away his child, and deprive me of his honorable name. 

I felt so worn out with the constant bickering that I 
said: 

. “I am perfectly willing, and the sooner the better. 
It is either one thing or the other. You must accept 
the matter as it now stands, and which we cannot 
change, or you can take the child and yourself back 
to the syndicate. I am perfectly willing.” 

He looked at me in consternation a full minute, and 
then left the room and soon I heard the front door 


122 


LETTERS OF 'AN 


slam. I found afterward that he went direct to a fa- 
mous French lawyer. What passed there I do not 
know, but from that day on he was a changed man. 
His grand spirit was broken and the following day he 
went to see Mr. Stern. Mr. Stern told me afterward 
that he had not expected to find him so tract — no, sen- 
sible, and that he thought that later he might be able 
to be a little more liberal in ready cash with me. 

Time passed on and still my dearest Count was all 
that the most exacting wife could desire. He was not 
fond of the Americans, for he never seemed to under- 
stand them, and so the most of his time was passed at 
home. We rode out every day in our fine turnout, and 
we had dressed our coachman and footman in the re- 
splendent livery of the Poche-vide et Piednu family. 
I had had our coat of arms emblazoned on our car- 
riage and harness wherever it was possible, and the 
coronet on our cards and letter heads, but I could not 
entertain on account of our mourning. 

After the second year in this country he had quite 
come to like it, and the notice he received on the 
Avenue and on Broadway pleased him. He also fre- 
quented the French restaurants and dined there, telling 
a select crowd of the great honor of his family and 
putting lumps of sugar in his pockets surreptitiously. 
The admiration he received made him feel that he was 
still a Poche-vide et Piednu. 

But he had much trouble with my servants — ^Amer- 
ican servants, all except our Irish cook. She had 
been fifteen years in our family, and she knew that 
she was to remain as long as she wished, and that 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


123 


when she left, her own niece was to follow her as queen 
of my kitchen. It Seems funny for me to say my 
kitchen, or indeed anything else, after having had 
nothing for so long. Bridget does not take kindly to 
interference of anyone, let alone a foreigner. 

My dear love thought it his duty as master of the 
house — a title which he still claims with much insist- 
ence — to go down to the kitchen to see that there was 
no wanton waste of food material, which he much 
feared there was. 

I had gone to make some calls, and on my return I 
found the doctor's carriage at the door, to my sur- 
prise. I hastened in and found little Edward, then 
about three and a half years old, sliding down the 
banisters, to the imminent danger of his neck. Seeing 
him safe, I soon found that the dear Count was the 
one who was under the doctor’s care. His feet and 
ankles were scalded. 

‘^Ze cook she ’ave what you call ‘fire me’ out of ze 
cuisine. I ’ave go zere to fin’ out if she is do her 
duty, an’ not t’ief ze sings. I ’ave see much sings 
come into zis house and I sink zey is not all use here.” 

He said this in explanation of his burns, which 
the doctor pronounced trifling. I could just im- 
agine Bridget, whose honesty was unquestionable, at 
such an accusation and what she said, before she 
threw the hot water. That she did not rise up in her 
wrath and smite him with the rolling pin I wondered. 
He had escaped lightly. I could not help laughing 
a little as I thought of it. 


124 


LETTERS OF AN 


‘^You make ze laugh is it? I order zat you sen’ 
away zat fury — zat petroleuse from my house, right 
away now, quick!” 

^'But I cannot send her away from my house, ac- 
cording to the terms of my father's will” — and I may 
be pardoned if I laid a slight emphasis on my house. 

“I say je m’en fiche of your fazzer's will! You shall 
send her away, quick, right now 1” 

“But Bonito, she is so big, I am afraid of her. You 
can do it yourself to-morrow.” 

“I — I never more will go near zat cuisine ! She 'ave 
kill me. She may t’ief you everysing. I go no more 
zere.” 

“Bridget is honest and faithful, and does not steal, 
and she is a good cook ; besides, we must keep her.” 

“If ze stay, zen I go.” 

“Very well,” I answered. “Shall I have your car- 
riage called ?” I was tired of trouble, and for the m.o- 
ment I pretended ta myself that I didn’t care if he did 
go. But I did, for I loved him then as I always have, 
and always shall for his noble heart and angelic nature. 
But I was learning how to manage him a little better. 
But I must praise his gentle sweetness of disposition. 

Then I had to hear Bridget’s side of the story, and 
it appears that she had been putting up with what she 
thought a good deal for a long time. The Count used 
to go down to the kitchen daily, and open the ice chest 
and closets, and not only that, but lift the lids of the 
kettles, and peep into the ovens. Once he spoiled a 
fine sponge cal^e by opening the oven door at a critical 
moment. She bore all that until he accused her of 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


125 


selling the groceries. I told her that was the fashion 
in his country — though I hope it is not a very general 
one, and I told her that it would not occur again. 

^‘Well, Miss Sybil, I didn’t hurt him, but if he do ever 
come here again he’d better take his last sacrament 
first, for I’ll not leave two pieces of his little carcass 
together, begging your parddn.” 

I tried to be dignified, but it was too much and I 
laughed until I was ready to drop. Then Bridget 
began to cry, and we made a peace, and such a lovely 
dinner as she sent up that night! 

The noble and forgiving Count never mentioned the 
affair again. 

At last the time came when we could entertain as 
befitted our rank and wealth. I had waited so long 
for this triumph. The first year had been the mourn- 
ing, and when this was over it was too late in the sea- 
son, and during the following autumn little Edward 
had a succession of mumps, measles, whooping cough 
and scarletina, besides breaking his arm. He was, and 
is yet, and I fear will always be a genuine enfant ter- 
rible. Though small in size he is a perfect imp of 
mischief. But he must not be punished — it would 
break his spirit. 

So at last the day arrived when we were to give a din- 
ner of forty covers, and after that a reception to all 
the friends I had known in my youth. You wouldn’t 
believe, Caroline, how these past five years have aged 
me. I really feel quite old. 

I had a gown made of ivory brocade with silver 


126 LETTERS OF AM 

figures and a train festooned down the whole length 
with rich point d’Alencon. The corsage was of the 
same, literally studded with diamonds, for I deter- 
mined to make a sensation. My coronet had regained 
its brightness, with perhaps a little more, and all my 
other jewels found place. The dear and noble Count 
looked toO' beautiful to be a man. His eyebrows were 
darkened, and this with the judicious use of coloring 
gave him an entrancing loveliness. This with his 
mustache and imperial, for he had grown an imperial 
to show his disgust toward the Republic, and his curl- 
ing black hair, and his faultless attire made him some- 
thing to be admired and desired. I knew that half 
the women would be envious of my superb Bonito. . 

He put on his finest company manners, and his bow 
had lost none of its distinction. It was not ten min- 
utes after our guests arrived before he was the centre 
of attraction. I was in the seventh heaven of delight 
and pride. Here was the realization of my highest 
desires. I had wished to be a countess. I was one. I 
had a husband that all women envied and I loved that 
husband devotedly — madly — and he loved me quite as 
much. I may just as well put it in the present tense 
and say, I love, he loves, for it is true. 

To be truthful I must say that the men did not 
seem to care much for my best and dearest, but per- 
haps that was only envy. Mrs. Stern, who had been 
the Baroness S. in the old days, was among the 
guests, and she was simply radiant with happiness. 
She had never valued her title as I did mine, probably 
because she colild not love that horrid Baron. And 


AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


127 


now she was wedded to the man she had always loved, 
though no doubt she had thought she had gotten over 
it. Well, our dinner was a dream, and the reception 
a delight. Everybody was there. The three im- 
mense parlors were literally embowered in La France 
and American beauty rose,s and ferns. The best 
musicians played sweet strains; the only thing that 
struck a false note was when the musicians, thinking 
to please Bonito, began the Marseillaise. I was afraid 
he would remember the disastrous election, but he was 
magnanimous enough to excuse it and say nothing. 

There was not one of those little annoyances that 
will come up often in the best regulated houses, and 
consequently nothing marred our evening’s pleasure. 

Dearest Bonito actually seemed to me to be dazzled 
by the magnificence of the whole affair. The beauty 
of the women and the splendor of their apparel particu- 
larly appealed to him. The whole function surpassed 
by a hundredfold any that I had ever seen in Paris, 
though, to be sure, I went out but little while there. 

It was all over and I was in my room taking off my 
jewels. I had a safe of my own now. Bonito came 
in, and walked about a little and finally said : 

^'So this is what you call society in New York. 
Bah! Ze womens will do, but ze mans — zey are all 
business peoples — nossings — ^nobodies. Zey all have 
ze magazin, ze import, ze bank — ze broke — and all zat 
common peoples. I am ze only gentleman zere to- 
night. I ’ave see all zoze mens at business, one kind or 
ozzer, and zey dress like ze workmen in short coat and 


128 LETTERS OF AN AMERICAN COUNTESS. 


small hat and no gloves. A gentleman he wears all 
times ze frock coat and ze tall hat and ze gloves. 
Bahr 

“Why, Bonito! These are our best people, judges, 
lawyers, and men in other walks of life, all honorable 
and respected. Of course they are in business. That 
is how they make their money. That does not hinder 
them from being gentlemen. 

“Ah, bah! Look at me! I am a gentleman. And 
more, a Comte de Poche-vide et Piednu. Nevaire I 
not would work.” 

“I believe you,” I answered wearily, and he, satis- 
fied, strutted off grandly. After all there are butter- 
flies and birds of beautiful plumage, and if not born 
for the life they lead, why were they bom ? 

So, you can see, my dear Caroline, how very happy 
I am, and how much cause I have to be so. I alone 
out of all the women who have made international 
marriages have cause to rejoice. Few have husbands 
of such noble and self-sacrificing character as my most 
amiable and beloved Count. I really cannot make you 
, understand how singularly I am blessed in my mar- 
riage, unless you can come to make me a visit. Then 
you will understand. Name your own time, and let it 
be soon. I know you must be as anxious to see my 
Bonito, from what I have told you of him, as I am to 
have you do so. So, write soon and let your answer 
be favorable, to complete the happiness of your old 
friend, Syb. 


1 


THE END. 



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